The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep
by bananapancakes7
Summary: Bella visits a quiet lodge in Forks and she meets the secretive, tormented Edward Masen. Just as their relationship transcends friendship, Edward's past comes back to haunt him in the most brutal way. B&E are human, but oh…there will be vampires. AU.
1. A Break

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, I just play around in its world. Forgive me, Mrs. Meyer.**

**(Update 6-2-10: At some point, FF turned all of my dashes to hyphens, so I apologize if words in chapters 1-26 are linked where they're not supposed to be. I'm sure you'll notice what I mean. I'll be (gradually) trying to fix them. But in the meantime, sorry it looks so grammatically incorrect!)**

-:-

Rain.

So wet, so cold. So fucking annoying.

I sighed. There should have been no surprise, really. I had heard enough about Forks from my father: well known for its blanket of fog, rain, humidity, and all-around ashen atmosphere. I'd just been hoping that I wasn't going to have to experience it until I was finished driving.

I glanced down at my lap again, where my smudged directions were lying. I had pulled over half a dozen times to inquire about where I was going to strangers, so much that the paper I'd written out had gotten dripped on, spritzed, and then downright soaked from the rain. It was just barely readable and I hoped to the skies above (as black as they were) that I was still going the right way.

My truck groaned and clanked as it climbed the steep terrain and I ran my hand along the dashboard in a soothing manner.

"Hang in there," I said, humoring myself.

My truck had been a gift from Charlie when I was seventeen, so I wouldn't have to share a car with Renée anymore. He'd bought it off his friend Billy Black in La Push and had driven it all the way down to Jacksonville for my birthday; how it ever survived the trip is a mystery. Charlie described it as a tank: slow, strong, heavy, and emitted strong exhaust at times. But I loved it and drove it everywhere, even though Renée whined that I should have a sporty, cute car that would accentuate my flirty side.

I'd snorted at her. Plus, driving the I-10 was hell on Earth and with my luck, one day I'd be plowed into and crushed; at least my chances were better in my "tank" than in some little Jaguar.

"She should take the Chevy," Charlie had said to Renée while I'd been planning my trip. "I wouldn't want all the salt and rain to ruin that other thing she drives."

That other _thing_ was a shiny, new Mazda RX-8, and Renée had given it to me as a pity gift after my truck was sentenced to a two-week repair in the shop. Also, I think she felt sorry for me because my roommate had gotten engaged and skipped out on our lease. It had been a rough few weeks for me after realizing that I'd have to resort to living with a stranger since all of my other friends either lived with their boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, or already had roommates. I was the _only_ single one left. I had a job that did absolutely nothing to benefit society (in a good way, anyway), I was unhappy, and I was completely and utterly alone.

"But isn't it _cute_?" Renée had gushed over the little blue thing. "Baby, come on, it's something brand new for a new start."

Even though she was focused on the car, her words hit me. Since I rarely spent money on myself and had gotten scholarships that put me through college, a fact that Renée bragged to too many strangers about, I decided that I could afford to take a break from life. I needed a change. A move. Maybe not a permanent one, but I was too damned tired of the sunshine greeting me every morning like everything was fine and fucking dandy.

I wanted to be someplace far away. Somewhere small and unknown to most people in the continental United States. Somewhere dark and dreary like my pissy mood.

Then, in the middle of breakfast, I found myself absentmindedly staring at my eating utensil, and it hit me. Ten seconds later, I was on the phone with Charlie. I can't lie; part of the reason why I had decided on Forks, Washington as my destination was Charlie's fondness for the little town. If it had been a popular, sight-seeing sort of place, I would have bet money that Charlie would have gladly gotten a side job as one of those dumb tour guides that bombard people with old town stories and other useless information. He seemed excited by my idea - much, much more than Renée had been. By the end of our conversation, he had agreed to make my arrangements, and it sounded as though he wanted to join me and take me on a month-long fishing trip. Luckily, I convinced him to consider persuading Renée to go fishing off one of Jacksonville's piers instead.

The rain went from a slight drizzle to a frenzied pelt against my windshield as though we had bad personal history. I figured that if I hadn't found the lodge in another ten minutes, I'd have to suck up my stubbornness and make a call to Charlie. Knowing him, he'd probably patch me through to his old station and have them dispatch one of their rookies to come and find me.

On a second thought, maybe I wouldn't call him. I definitely didn't need that kind of attention. I drove for another few minutes and finally, thankfully, saw a sign: _Red Timber Lodge_, _one mile_.

It was more than a hundred years old. Before I left, Charlie had confided in me that he stayed there for nearly two weeks after Renée had left with me because he couldn't stand how empty the house was. Luckily for him, he'd gotten a second chance at happily-ever-after.

It had happened quickly. For as long as I could remember, Charlie and Renée had been separate parents on separate sides of the continent. Charlie made trips down to Florida every few months and for Christmas; I'd only visited him a handful of times when I was younger and barely remembered it. Then, last December, Charlie had come for another routine holiday visit. Renée and Phil, my stepfather, had finalized their divorce only a month previous, and my mother was a lackadaisical mess. I had taken over cooking, of course, and begged Charlie to come to dinner. I couldn't bear to see Renée cry through another evening and I knew she would not dare go to pieces in front of him. Charlie, of course, had planned on ordering hotel room service like he'd done every other Christmas. He used to say that he liked his alone time, but I always knew it was because he secretly couldn't stand to see my mother in her wild Christmas sweater, the same one she had worn when she was married to him, with her arm draped around Phil, laughing and smiling and showing Charlie everything he had lost. This past time, however, was quite different.

I'd practically pushed Renée into the shower, picked her out an outfit that didn't include the Christmas explosion sweater (after all, it was a ferocious sixty-five degrees out), and managed to get the table set by the time Charlie showed up at the door. He looked like a lost puppy when he'd entered the house - head low, feet shuffling. I'd hardly recognized him. He was actually wearing a short-sleeved button-down shirt and holding two bouquets of flowers. Seeming embarrassed, he handed me a bunch of purple irises and jasmine.

"Merry Christmas, Bells."

I felt a goofy smile creep onto my face and exclaimed with a laugh, "Charlie, you bought flowers?"

He eyed me funny when I used his first name, but said, "Well, I got you some gift cards for tomorrow."

"_Dad_," I said, to make him feel better, "I didn't mean it like that. It's thoughtful. You remembered my favorites."

"Yeah, well," he said, looking very much like a little boy as he scuffed his shoe into the floor.

Renée had come down the stairs, then, and stopped in her tracks when she saw Charlie holding flowers and dressed in something other than long-sleeved plaid. Charlie, of course, tried to hold back his weak-in-the-knees expression that he always got around Renée, but I could see through him. It was odd how they seemed to drift toward one another all night, actually smiling comfortably and showing interest in each others' conversations. I'd all but dropped my fork when Charlie looked over at me and _winked._

Dinner went extremely better than I'd expected and Charlie and Renée were still talking at the table when I decided to go to bed. To make a long story short, Charlie had extended his visit to New Years, and that went well, too - embarrassingly well. I'd come home from a party on New Year's Day to find them sleeping half-clothed on the couch. I still shuddered at remembering the sight, even if they were my parents.

Fast forward to a couple months later, and Charlie had decided to move to Jacksonville to embrace the sunshine and my mother's bouncy lifestyle. Maybe it was a midlife crisis on his part, or loneliness, or just the fact that he was tired of the rain … but he was happy. They both were, and I wasn't about to step on their toes. In a strange way, I felt satisfied for them.

My brief reminiscence ended as I turned into a long drive that crept up into another tightly packed herd of trees. If the sun ever did come out, I wondered if I would even be able to see it through the cluster of branches and leaves. Talk about privacy. Charlie didn't lie.

In the dirt-paved parking lot, my decrepit truck stood out like a nun on a street corner. Mostly, there were compact cars and a few minivans scattered throughout, and also, to my amusement, a bus that resembled a minivan with the decal "Senior Sunrise!" sat in the only handicapped-accessed space. All were surprisingly clean and seemed to be much _fresher_ than what I was driving. I spotted a girl around my age standing by a shiny red car, who was wearing a black apron; she probably worked here. Though, she wasn't exactly 'employee-friendly' as she eyed me and my truck with presumable disgust as my truck's engine growled, in desperate need of rest. I quickly parked in the nearest empty spot next to a glossy, silver car. A ... Volvo. Maybe I'd meet a nice soccer mom.

As if on cue, my truck let out a fierce blast-like sound as I turned off the ignition. For the first time ever, I missed my Mazda. I then proceeded to pretend like my truck hadn't just backfired as I slipped out of the driver's seat and went around to the passenger's side to collect my suitcase and duffels. The girl who had been watching me moments ago peered over at me again with her nose wrinkled and her cell phone pressed against her ear, trying to be inconspicuous. I gave her a small wave.

_Hi, I see you staring, you judgmental priss._

She whisked her head in the opposite direction as if she didn't see me and strutted away, her dark curls bouncing in unison with her boobs (which were practically yelling _"Hellooo" _at me out of her shirt). Oh well. At least seeing her with a cell phone meant there was such a thing as reception out here, which was a miracle in itself.

I heaved my duffel bags over my shoulders and picked up my ancient suitcase. As I walked closer to the lodge itself, I took in the detail of the building. It was cabin-like, similar to the Lincoln Logs I used to play with as a child. The size of it astonished me; I hadn't expected it to be so big. I'd envisioned some sort of pastel-painted, old-time, small bed-and-breakfast you would see on a side street in New England. But it was charming. A log mansion.

_This is it, Bella. Let's go._

I made my way down the path and took a deep breath.

-:-

**So, this is my first fanfiction. Usually, I'm just the reader and never thought that I'd actually post a story … but here it is! Just in case anyone is wondering, I'm writing Bella as a 21 year-old college grad. I wanted it to be plausible that she could just take off by herself across the country and doing that at 17 is not exactly believable for this story. A big sorry to those who love high-school Bella and Edward. Also, some characters are going to be OOC at times. They're older, they're feistier, and they have a lot more angst. But that's just how I roll. ;) **

**I'll post again very soon! Thanks for reading! **

**Reviews are like watching judgmental prisses fall on their ass.**


	2. Ghost in the Wall

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just pretend that I do in some alternate universe and that makes me feel better.**

-:-

I walked beside a large stone wall, which led me to the entrance, and came face to face with glossy, blank eyes. A stuffed black bear, claws raised, teeth baring. My mouth dropped open and for an embarrassing millisecond, I thought that it was real. Quickly, I bumped the door open with my hip and hurried inside before the thing decided to move and eat me.

Inside the lobby, I was welcomed by a warm scent of coffee and burning wood. The interior was even more surprising than the outside. It was enormous, for one, and very brown. Mahogany carpet blanketed the entire first floor, with the exception of a long patch of hardwood that was full of dark, cherry wood tables with bright blue table runners, of which some were occupied with old men and women. A buffet bar with fruit baskets and coffee pots ran along the side of a wide staircase, presumably leading up to the guest rooms. On the other side of the stairs was a large sitting area with strategically placed sofas, loveseats, and armchairs. Two remarkable bookcases that were packed full of books sandwiched an impressive, centered fireplace, which was brightly glowing and crackling. Coming from Jacksonville, it was a very foreign atmosphere for me, but it was nice. A lovely melody of a piano even sounded in the background.

_This could do._

Having been distracted by my surroundings, I almost missed the small desk that I could only guess was a check-in or some sort of customer service point. A plump woman with gray hair was standing behind the desk, glancing over a few pamphlets. She was dressed in a fancier business suit than I would have thought, seeing as we were in the middle of a forest. Her eyes lit up when she noticed me.

"Oh! You must be Isabella Swan!"

My mouth parted and I raised my eyebrows, and a few of the people sitting around the lobby looked up in curiosity. I spied the rude girl from the parking lot staring at me from a doorway that read _Entertainment Hall. _"Um, yes?" I replied shyly, feeling my cheeks heat.

"Well, we've been waiting for you all afternoon, honey," the woman said, walking around the desk and standing in front of me. "I'm Doris and I'm pleased to meet you!"

She held out her hand and I took it, still surprised. Small-town hospitality, I guessed. "Nice to meet you, too," I said quietly.

"So, did you have trouble finding the place, Isabella? Did the rain slow you down?" Doris questioned as she picked up one of my bags. I opened my mouth to protest, but she waved a hand and lifted it anyway.

"Well, both," I admitted, securing my other two bags. "You can call me Bella."

"Bella," she repeated. "I like it. Did your father start that?"

I balked. "You know Charlie?"

"Of course, he's the one who told me all about you," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Charlie must have called and blabbed. How _Renée_ of him. Briefly, I wondered if Doris might have worked here when Charlie had been a guest so many years ago. "Best police chief we had as far as I can remember," she continued. "We were all sad to see him go. Though I can't blame him for wanting out of the rain and into the sun. How's he liking Jacksonville?"

"He's … adjusting," I said, smiling a bit. It had been hysterical to watch Charlie set foot on the beach with his pale, white skin and actually try to surf with Renée.

"Well, give him my best when you speak to him," she said. "So, this is our common area." She gestured all around her, letting her hand sway lithely. "We have a separate dining hall for dinner, but breakfast and lunch are served over by the windows. Just grab anything you want from the buffet and seat yourself, though our servers do come around if you want to order anything from the kitchen." She tilted her head in the direction of the curly-haired girl, who perked up and gave me an artificial smile. "That's Jessica who's on duty now, and you'll meet the other girls in time, I'm sure."

_Great_. I made a mental note to always get food from the buffet. If Jessica was ever carrying my order, it was almost sure to be carrying her spit.

Doris pointed to the fireplace. "There's tons of books if you feel like curling up by the fire. My eyes are going and I can't read that fine print so much, but I'm sure a young girl like you will do just fine. I don't know if you're a fan of the classics or not…"

"Oh, I am," I said honestly. I knew I'd be spending some time perusing those bookcases.

"Well, great!" she said. "I am, too. That Charlotte Bronte brings me to tears… Anyway, dear, you're free to read them here or take them to your room - whatever you wish."

I smiled.

"The Dining Hall is straight down that hallway," Doris said, grandly gesticulating again. "And this is our Entertainment Hall. We're no grand casino, but we try to keep our guests entertained. There's the occasional talent night, game night, and we show movies every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday evening. Most folk take a drive to Port Angeles during the weekend as well. I could give you some pamphlets on that!"

"Okay," I said, feeling my arms start to ache from the heaviness of my suitcase and duffel bag. I had no idea how Doris was able to stand upright with my other bag, but if she was suffering, she didn't show it.

"As you can hear, we've a bit of a little piano concert going on right now," she said in a dreamy voice, signaling to the doorway where Jessica was standing. "Jessica, Mr. Dawes could probably use a refill," she added, a bit sharp.

Jessica, who had been leaning into the Entertainment Hall and staring at something, snapped her head in our direction. "Oh," she said, sounding flustered. "Yeah, okay." Her face turned grim as she swished her way over to a man at one of the tables.

"Mr. Masen has been stunning us all with his extraordinary performances," she said, her eyes fluttering blissfully like a schoolgirl in love. I bit back a giggle, wondering if "Mr. Masen" knew that he had an admirer. I peeked into the hall and saw some adults and a few more elderly men and women sitting in fold-out chairs, listening to the enticing melody of the piano. I couldn't see the man who was playing, but I suspected him to look like my old piano teacher: gray hair, a wrinkly, strict face, and sporting a twisty mustache. Besides Jessica, I wondered if there would be anyone remotely close to my age who was staying there.

_Probably not_, I answered my own thoughts. Already in a small town, I couldn't imagine any other twenty-something's who came to a wilderness lodge for the hell of it to spend their time. Just me. Then, Doris motioned for me to follow her up the huge staircase. "Your room is on the fourth floor," she informed me.

_Damn. _This place really was huge.

"That floor only has two rooms, which I normally just leave open for show," she said as we climbed, puffing as we carried the extra weight of my luggage. "This house has some history and quite a few famous people have stayed in the upper wing of the house. But, I figured Charlie would like you to stay somewhere memorable."

"Oh, you don't have to do anything special-"

She waved her hand in dismissal again. "Oh, hush. I don't get many young folk coming in here. You all can climb the stairs much better than the others, anyway!" She laughed at herself. "It's a nice change and you seem like a sweet girl. Charlie's told me all about you... Have I said that, already? Anyway, I think you'll like it."

We reached the top of the stairs and she led me to the right. "We advertise that bathrooms are shared, but this is the only floor where the rooms have their own bathroom. The rest of the guests here don't know that, so keep it hush-hush if you can."

"Sure," I said, a little relieved to know that I'd be having the privacy I'd wanted. Though, the floor did feel a little secluded. "Is the other room occupied?"

"Yes, actually," said Doris. "Don't worry, dear, you won't be completely alone. You could always knock and make a friend!" She chuckled, getting that wistful look in her eyes again. "Here we are."

She unlocked the door, pushed it open, flipped on a light switch, and a magnificent glow from an elegant chandelier lit up the whole room. I set my bags down and took in the view.

_Wow_.

All of the furniture were antiques. The bed was against the left wall - a deep maple wood, carved intricately with flowery designs and covered with a pretty blue comforter - and a night table holding a lamp neighbored the left side. Double Victorian windows were parallel to the door, then to the right was a door to the bathroom, and a dresser that matched the bed. Against the wall with the windows was a cast iron stove, and in the center was a desk and chair that looked like they had been plucked straight out of an Austen novel.

"Whoa, Doris," I said. "This is really nice. It's beautiful."

Doris's eyes lit up. "Glad you think so!"

I took another look at the cast iron stove. "Although … I'm not sure how graceful I'll be with that."

Doris laughed. "Honey, don't worry! We don't light it anymore. We upgraded to central heating almost a decade ago."

"Oh, good," I said, chuckling along with her, thinking of how I would have definitely burnt down the whole lodge if I had to handle lighting that thing.

"So, Isabella-"

"Oh, just Bella," I corrected.

"Right! Bella," she said. "I'll leave you to get settled. Come down and get something to eat if you'd like - everyone's had dinner, but the cook's still here and he'd be glad to whip up something. I'm sure you're starving after your drive. Of course, I understand if you're tired."

"I am pretty tired," I agreed, deciding to leave out the fact that I had embarrassingly inhaled some fast food about an hour ago. "Thanks, Doris. Really, this is great."

She smiled a lively grin. "I'm glad, dear. See you later tonight, or tomorrow morning!"

For a strange moment, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tip her, but she closed the door and left me to gaze around my room in awe. Renée would have probably bounced off the walls, thinking of it as an oversized dollhouse to play in. I pulled out my cell phone to see how much reception I had (a single bar - ha!) and called Renée and Charlie to tell them that I had made it there alive. I hung up before they could ramble on with too many questions and then unpacked my toiletries.

As soon as I sat down on the bed, my body relaxed instantaneously and I craved to lay down; Pavlov would have been proud. I was exhausted and sleep was overwhelmingly tempting, but I felt disgusting from being in the car for hours and was aching for a shower. The bathroom had both a claw-footed bathtub and a shower with sliding doors. The thought of a bubble bath was inviting but I didn't want to fall asleep in the tub, so a steaming shower it was. Afterward, I changed into the first pajamas that were visible in my duffel bag - a white, cotton nightgown - and fell into bed.

I remembered thinking that if I just ignored the cell phone charging in the corner, it was as though I was in another era. The moonlight from outside the windows illuminated the room with a peaceful light and the soft wind blowing outside the windows made everything feel so tranquil. It was still a little scary, thinking that I would be here for awhile without anyone I knew close by, but it seemed nice enough. I had a few other thoughts, but was too tired to really concentrate on anything but how soft the bed was, and within a few minutes, I had drifted into sleep.

I dreamt my once-in-awhile recurring dream that night. I was in the meadow again, naked this time, lying on my back with my arms sprawled over my head. The wind blew across my body, cooling me along with the rest of the grass. I opened my eyes and looked at the sky to watch the clouds change shape. Instead of silhouetting into identifiable figures, they swirled into hazy colors that covered the sky and faded into shades of gray. Then, streaming like water, the fogginess seeped from the sky and started to fall amongst the trees until I couldn't see them anymore. I waited, anticipating the moment where it would envelope me and let me be taken into its intoxicating blanket. But suddenly, the sky turned black and a roar of thunder tore through the atmosphere. It became louder and louder - it seemed to be right next to my ear-

I jerked awake, quickly rolling over as a strident knock came from the other side of the wall. My hair dropped into my eyes and I froze as I realized that I had rolled myself into a very awkward position - nearly ready to fall out of bed - but I didn't dare move to right myself. Had there really been a noise, or had I just been dreaming? I waited to see which was correct.

Nothing. No sound.

I didn't think I had imagined it … had I? I almost laughed out loud when the thought of ghosts popped into my head. I knew it was silly, but flashes of stupid childhood fears raced through my thoughts. Dark, hooded figures coming to steal me in the middle of the night; the creature under my bed; people who had died wanting to steal my soul… Maybe even dinosaurs were coming to eat me. Ever since I'd seen Jurassic Park, I was certain those scaly bitches were out to get me.

_Don't be ridiculous._

It could have been the wood creaking, though that would have been one hell of a creak... if there had even been a sound at all. Man. The last thing I needed in a strange town, far away from sunny Florida, was to be having auditory illusions.

But I wasn't. The second bang that emanated from the wall was so loud and furious that I lost my balance on the bed and flipped off the side, still tangled in the sheets. I hit the floor with a loud thud, loud enough to match the one I'd just heard. I tried to scramble to my feet, but my hair was still in my eyes and I, of course, ended up knocking my head into the night table.

_Ow._

"Shit," I muttered, placing my hand over my eye. _Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, no, no, no, no._

Warm, sticky liquid was running onto my fingers. This could not be happening. There was a psychotic ghost in my wall and I was bleeding from the head. I was certain that I was now officially fucked. Ghosts liked blood, right?

Or, no, that was sharks.

I was dizzy.

"Dear _God_, do not let me faint," I said aloud. I was going to be pissed at myself if I went unconscious when I was being haunted. That was what happened to the busty, snobby, pretentious chicks that were too stupid to pull it together in horror movies - they always died first. I stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tripping again as my bed sheet came with me. I flipped the light switch and sighed with relief when I didn't see any shadowy demons or any floating objects ready to attack me. When I hesitantly peeked in the mirror, I nearly passed out at the sight of myself.

Blood was streaming down the side of my face, flowing freely from the corner of my eyebrow. Suddenly unbearably lightheaded, I blindly reached for a towel, pressed it to my head, and sank down to the cold, tiled floor.

_Do not pass out, do not pass out, do _not _pass out…_

In between slow, deep breaths and my 'don't pass out' mantra, I still listened for any more banging. None came, but I heard something muffled - talking, maybe? Louder than that, though… It sounded like someone calling out. Maybe even crying.

Another sick feeling swept over me then, but not from my own accident. Doris had said that the room next to me was occupied. What if whoever it was had fallen? I wasn't trying to be stereotypical, but this place was full of elderly people. What if someone had fallen and broken their hip or something? Maybe they were banging on the wall for help. And if they were alone, surely no one could hear them from this wing of the house.

_Except you_.

I stood up slowly, thankfully not blacking out like I had been anticipating. I must have looked like a real creature of the night with my hair a tangled mess and blood running down my face. If I did try to help whoever was next door, I hoped that I wouldn't give them a heart attack as well.

I opened the door, which creaked like a ship about to burst, and wondered if this night could be anymore ridiculously clichéd_. _All that was missing were the numbers 1408 on my door. And maybe a sign out front that said the Overlook Hotel. At least there was a hall light.

My neighbor's door was only a few feet away and when I reached up to knock, I hesitated. What the hell would I say if someone answered the door and they were completely fine? Worse, what if I woke them up and they were pissed? Maybe Doris and _Mr. Masen _were getting physical up against the wall. I shuddered, thinking how much I would hate to interrupt _that_. My fingers danced as I wiggled them around, opening and closing my fist in indecision.

Then I heard it again. The voice. Not speaking, not calling out … just moaning. Short, quieter sounds of... not pain, but maybe fear? Okay, definitely not cries of passion. I was thankful for that, but then that probably meant something _was _wrong. I listened for a few more seconds, not thinking straight or having any idea of what to do. Were they crying? Were they-?

Another bang made me practically jump out of my skin as I recoiled in fright. Then there was a sharp inhale. Whoever was on the other side of the door had just gasped aloud and was now panting like a marathon runner. I was frozen to the spot, afraid to make a sound in fear they would hear me. I could only listen. Their breathing eventually calmed and I heard rustling - the sound of disheveling bed sheets, perhaps - and then footsteps. My eyes widened. They were coming straight for the door and I, for some reason, could not make myself run away.

I stumbled backwards just as the door was pulled open and I came face to face with my banging-psychotic-moaning-panting-ghost-neighbor.

And I was mesmerized.

-:-

**Love to the one who put me on story alert! How cool are you? **

**Reviews would be awesome. I like to know what people think and I don't even mind the flames. I can't promise I won't laugh at them, but I'll take them. Thanks again for reading!**


	3. Face to Face

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I am the embarrassed owner of some grammatical mistakes. My apologies for any in the past two chapters; I always catch them after I post. English major indeed. Maybe one of these days I'll figure out how to get a beta. **

-:-

Bright green eyes stared back at me with the same shock, confusion, and fear that mirrored off of mine. His face was startlingly pale and his peculiar bronze hair was wild, glistening with sweat and sticking out in all different directions. And he was _gorgeous_.

It was momentary, but I couldn't help noticing traces of defined pectorals and other sinewy muscles through the thin, white fabric of his shirt. He was much taller than me and had a lean build, and every ounce of him was beautiful. Even his pouting mouth that was forming a frown beguiled me. Of course, I didn't get to relish in the moment for long.

"Who are you?" he asked after halting his movement and gaping at me.

I felt like an utter moron as I stood with my mouth hanging open, pressing a blood-spotted towel against my head. "Um, B-Bella," I stuttered. "Sorry, I thought I-"

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

His angry, intense expression frightened me, made me curious, and pissed me off all at once. "What am _I_ doing? What are _you _doing?" I retorted, trying to sound annoyed. "I wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't been pounding on the wall."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion and then looked back at me, anger seemingly still pulsing through him. "I wasn't _pounding _on the wall," he said, though his tone sounded a tad unsure.

I tried not to scoff and racked my brain for a way to explain without sounding like I had been listening to his every move. Technically, I could hear him through the wall without straining, so that really didn't count as eavesdropping. If anything, _he_ had been disturbing _me_. That gave me some confidence.

"Yes, you were," I replied, pretending as though my heart wasn't racing like I'd just been injected with epinephrine. "It was loud enough to wake me and scare me out of bed. Then I heard someone crying out and moaning, and I thought-"

As I spoke, he looked more and more ready to explode into a fit of rage, which silenced me for only a few moments before I blurted out, "Are you okay or not?"

He took a deep breath, as if to stop himself from tackling me, and I cowered against the balcony. "You're bleeding," he stated without emotion.

"Yes," I nearly whispered. I fought the urge to tell him _he _was sweating.

"Are you all right?" he inquired, looking at me through shining eyes.

I nodded, firmly pressing the towel against my head. I knew I should have just stayed in bed, or at least on the bathroom floor, and waited until morning to investigate any strange noises. Charlie had taught me better than that.

He raked his hand through his hair and let out another shaky breath. "All right, then." And with that said, he briskly brushed past me, slamming his door closed as he left. He descended the stairs and was out of my sight before I could blink twice.

_Wow. What a gentleman._

I waited for my accelerated heartbeat to return to normal before dragging my feet back to my room. How the hell was I supposed to go back to sleep after that? I checked my cell phone. _Only one in the morning_? It was four A.M. in Jacksonville. I debated calling Renée anyway, as if I'd have something to say that wouldn't make her go all spastic.

_Hi, Mom, sorry to wake you. No, I'm fine, just a little head wound. Yeah, Forks is okay. A beautiful stranger just had a freak attack in the room next to me and he may or may not be mentally stable. Yeah, he kind of looked like he wanted to kill me, but you always taught me not to judge._

I tossed my phone back on the table and went back to the bathroom. Luckily, my head had stopped with the consistent bloody streaming; now, it was just kind of … wet. My stomach rolled. _Gross._

I dug in my duffel bag for some Band-Aids, thinking that a person like me should have bought some stock in them by now, and patched myself up the best I could. I looked like I was trying to make some sort of fashion statement with a giant "X" across my eyebrow.

Before I got back into bed, I crept over to the door and cracked it an inch to look out. No sound. No movement. No bronze-haired boys. I should have felt relieved, but I felt slightly concerned (and if I was being honest, a little disappointed) that he was still off somewhere, stalking the lobby or the outside parking lot. I hoped he had enough sense to stay out of the woods at night. The bear statue at the door had given me a new perspective on safety.

As I lay wrapped in the sheets which I'd carelessly thrown back onto the bed, I tried to discipline myself to close my eyes. But my mind was now reeling… Who _was_ he? Why had he looked so panic-stricken? Better yet, why did he look like he wanted to rip my head off for caring?

This was frustrating. I had expected Forks to distract me, definitely, but I certainly hadn't expected it to be in the form of a guy… at least, not consciously. But I knew, as I imagined his burning green eyes staring into mine, that I was going to have trouble not paying attention to him.

_If he's even still here, spazz! _For all I knew, he could have taken off in his go-go-gadget-get-the-fuck-out-of-here vehicle.

I huffed and buried my face in a pillow, making the cut on my head ache with a stinging throb. I would have to wait and see. Morning felt so very far away.

-:-

I drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the night and when I woke, I only felt mildly refreshed. When I walked into the bathroom I saw that, even with the bandages on, I had a small bluish bruise that was forming around my eye - another lovely mark to show off. I knew I'd better think of a good story to tell in case anyone asked - something better than "the handsome mystery man next door almost punched a hole in the wall and I fell out of bed."

I took another quick shower to wash away the rest of my sleepiness and quickly got dressed. As I fixed my hair, I almost felt ashamed for suddenly anticipating breakfast. I _was_ hungry, but that was not the reason for my hurry. If I was being honest, I just wanted to go see if I could get a glimpse of _him_.

_God, are you in high school again? _Stupid, inane, childish curiosity. If I were a cat, I'd have croaked hours ago.

I placed just one small Band-Aid over my eyebrow and pulled my hair across my forehead, trying to cover the bruise. I pondered make up, which I hadn't thought about since I'd gone out with a guy from my philosophy class in college; normally, I didn't bother. Since lip gloss wasn't over the top, I rubbed a dab over my lips and took a deep breath.

Breakfast time.

I left my room, and as I descended the stairs, I felt my pulse quicken.

_Stop it. He might not even be there._

I was kind of embarrassed. I'd only seen the guy for approximately thirty seconds after I had obviously offended him somehow, _and_ he didn't exactly look thrilled when he had stormed down the stairs and left me standing there feeling like a super idiot. A bleeding super idiot.

Even so, I smoothed out my shirt and hair before I walked down the last staircase. I noticed right away that it was somewhat dark outside and rain was pattering against the windows, but the lobby was very brightly lit and bustling with conversation. People were sitting in both the buffet area and in front of the fireplace, sipping from mugs or small glasses of orange juice. Some of them gave me a smile or nod and I shyly smiled and waved in return. Florida was very crowded and busy; I wasn't used to being acknowledged by strangers. It felt odd, but it was sort of nice, too.

When I entered the café, I purposely avoided eye contact with anyone else. If my next-door neighbor was sitting in there, I didn't want to seem as if I was blatantly searching for him. At the buffet, I placed a tea bag in a mug reading "Red Timber Lodge, est. 1901" and filled it with hot water. The aroma of eggs, bacon, and other mouthwatering scents were inviting and I was looking forward to digging into a plate of something buttery and highly caloric, but just then, I noticed Jessica in my periphery. She was with a blonde girl, both of them carrying trays of food, and they happened to spot me at the same moment. I received an identical look of scorn from each.

Well, that was just great. Jessica had probably filled the blonde in on the state of my truck and she, too, thought that made me an unprivileged loser. The glares they'd given me made me nervous... now I'd never be able to order hot food unless there was another server who I hadn't yet met.

I chose a bagel and a mini container of cream cheese and sat down at one of the nearest tables. Small bowls of red and green apples had been placed on the center of each table, overlapping the blue table runners, and I had to admit they were a refreshing, colorful touch. At least I could count on getting my servings of fruit, anyway. I'd have to work on the protein at dinnertime. I took a deep breath as I casually ran my hands through my hair and promptly froze as I looked up.

Next to a window, at one of the tables not far from me, there he was.

I instantly diverted my eyes, afraid he would see me, and stared down at my breakfast, suddenly forgetting what to do with it.

_How about acting natural, genius? Eat._

I hastily unwrapped my silverware and started spreading cream cheese on the bagel. I took a very small bite and chewed. Then I peeked. He was still there and hadn't seen me.

"What can I get you to drink?"

I jumped. The blonde girl had snuck up to my table and was looking down at me questioningly. I looked at the cup of tea I'd brought to the table and stared back at her, puzzled. "Thanks, but I'm okay," I replied, gesturing to my mug.

"Oh, right," she said. "I'm Lauren. You're Isabella?"

"Bella," I corrected her. "Nice to meet you." I tried my hardest not to sound intimidated, but she was staring at me as though I were an insect.

"Yeah, you too. So, what brings you to Forks, Bella?"

I glanced to the side and saw Jessica peering over from the front of the lobby. Aha - they wanted information. I sighed and gave Lauren just as fake of a smile (if I could even call it that) as she was giving me. "The weather."

As if on cue, a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. Lauren gave me a strange look and backed away from my table as though I had just confessed that I had leprosy. I almost laughed, finding it a bit funny that pretty much everyone my age (at this lodge, anyway) was pissed off at the world.

I took another bite of my bagel, but I soon lost interest as I felt the temptation to keep glancing over at my fourth floor companion, thinking it would be nice to put a name to his face, if anything. I stirred my own tea aimlessly, trying not to clink the spoon too loudly, and discreetly watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was sipping a mug of coffee or tea, or something, but it very well could have been whiskey. From what I could make out, his eyes were completely bloodshot.

Whenever I saw his head move even a fraction of an inch, I darted my eyes back to my table, avoiding any chance of being caught staring at him. I wondered if he had noticed me yet, and was thinking how ridiculous I looked sitting there stirring my tea like a robot. When a sufficient amount of time had passed, I peeked at him again.

Someone had brought him toast, but he wasn't eating. He was looking out the rain-streaked window with his chin resting on his fist. He was in such a simple position; it a very common thing to do. Yet, my insides were flipping around as though he had just flashed me a seductive gaze, ripped off his shirt, and asked if he could fuck me senseless.

"Isabella!"

My elbow slid off the table's edge and I grabbed my mug, trying to keep it from flying off, too. Tea sloshed over the side and down my fingers, burning them, and as I jerked my hands back, I knocked my plate off the table. I winced at the stinging pain and everything seemed to go silent at once... except for something on the floor. My plate was rolling around in a circle like a spun quarter and my bagel had landed cream cheese side down on the lovely hardwood_. _People were staring.

_Real stealthy, Bella_.

"Oh, honey! I didn't mean to startle you."

It was Doris who had called my name - she was now hurrying to my table with some papers in her hand. I felt a warm rush of blood wash across my cheeks as I quickly picked up my plate and bagel from the floor and swiped at the spots of cream cheese with my napkin. How humiliating. I didn't dare look in _his_ direction.

"Are you all right?" Doris asked, eyeing my table.

"Yeah," I mumbled, still flushing red and trying to mop up my spill. "Sorry, Doris. I was … daydreaming."

"Yes, dear, I could see that," she said in a low voice, her face disclosing a wide smile. "Can't keep your eyes off of Mr. Masen, can you?"

Mr. Masen? I glanced over at a gray-haired man playing chess. I'd thought I'd heard someone address him as Mr. Miller, but I could have been wrong.

"Neither can I, dear," she said heartedly. "I've always had a weakness for green eyes."

Oh. _Oh_.

"N-no, no, I-I-" I tried to say, shaking my head. There was no use; her smile was wider than ever. I cleared my throat and stared back at the table. "That-that's _Mr. Masen_?" I asked in a near whisper. "In the gray shirt? With the … hair?"

Most of the other men were either bald or graying, after all.

"Mm-hmm. Why, dear?" Doris looked at me curiously, probably wondering why I looked shocked as all hell. The thought that I'd had about her being carnal against the wall with "Mr. Masen" during the early hours was suddenly in my head again and I was unable to hold back a hysterical giggle.

"Sorry," I apologized, trying to erase the mental image. Before, I had envisioned a salt-and-pepper-haired man with wrinkles and that was bad enough. This newly conjured visualization was both hilariously funny and equally disturbing.

"Oh, honey, what happened to your head?" she exclaimed loudly as I thoughtlessly pushed my hair behind my ears and exposed my bandaged bruise.

"Um … well …" I glanced over at the newly identified Mr. Masen's table. And he was _looking_. I felt like I'd just been caught stealing as blood continued to swirl under my cheeks. "I fell. It's no big deal. I do that a lot, actually."

"Ooh," said Doris, motherly touching my forehead. "I have some antiseptic in the first-aid kit. Would you like me to get you some?"

"Oh, don't worry," I said. "I'm fully stocked with medical supplies, I promise you."

Doris made a grandmotherly ticking noise with her tongue. "Well, dear, do try to be careful. We wouldn't want you giving any of us old folk arrhythmia."

I gave her an apologetic look. "I'll try."

"How was your first night? Did you sleep well?" she asked. I _knew_ he was close enough to hear her.

"Yes, thank you," I said as convincingly as possible. "It was very peaceful." If peaceful meant clamorous.

Doris gave me a pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. Oh!" She handed me the few papers in her hands. "It's a map of the town and some attractions over in Port Angeles. I figured you might want to get a start on your big plans."

_Big plans. Right._

"That's thoughtful of you, thanks," I said. I tried to resist, but I took a glimpse at my neighbor. He was playing with his toast but not eating. He looked like he was concentrating... oh, damn him, he was _listening_. "So, Doris, I meant to ask you about the rooms on the fourth floor…"

He stopped twirling his toast.

"I heard some noises last night before I fell asleep," I lied. "I was wondering if there was an attic or something above my room. Maybe something could have fallen or it was the wind blowing things against the wall?"

Doris pursed her lips thoughtfully. "No, there's no attic. Was it coming from the bathroom, dear? The pipes run down the far wall by the bathtub and they can make a pattering sound sometimes."

As I looked over at my mystery man again, he was staring at me and I quickly looked away. "Probably," I told Doris. "My imagination was just running away with me, I guess. You know ... sleeping in new places."

She gave me an understanding nod, but frowned. "I'd hate to think that any of the wiring or pipes are deteriorating already. We replaced everything only five years ago."

"I'm sure it was nothing," I reassured her, afraid she might turn to _Mr. Masen _and start inquiring him. If she did, I would run out the door.

"Hmm," Doris continued to ponder in her head, but thankfully, she dismissed it. "Well, let me know if you hear anything else out of the ordinary. We might just have our very own ghost!" She chuckled at her notion and I gave a halfhearted smile, feeling a slight urge to tell her that the "ghost" was in this very breakfast area eavesdropping on our conversation. Although, with Doris's volume, I was pretty sure that half of the other guests were, too.

"So, anyway," Doris said, "if you don't have plans later, we're showing _The Green Mile_ at seven-thirty tonight if you're interested. Hopefully this storm will ease up. Last week, the thunder kept interrupting the films… Here, let me take this for you," she said, picking up my plate with the sad-looking bagel on it. "Can I get you something else, dear? Anything from the kitchen?"

"No, thank you," I said. My appetite was gone for some reason. "I probably wasn't going to finish it anyway."

"If you change your mind, let me know, you little skinny thing," she said cordially. "So, would you like me to introduce you to some folk? Perhaps a certain someone that your eyes keep drifting to?"

My knee spasmodically jerked and I kicked the table leg, causing the table to shift. "Sorry," I told Doris. I was _such _a walking disaster, and apparently, a sitting one, too. "I … I think I'll keep a low profile today. Just unpack some more and maybe check out your bookcases. The movie sounds great, though."

"Okay," said Doris, a knowing smile on her face. "Well, Isabella, enjoy your breakfast - or tea. Come and find me if you have any questions. Or if you make friends with your ghost." She winked and began her rounds to the other tables.

I let my breath out and wiped up the fresh spill of tea that had sloshed out of my cup again, envying the people that had good control of their musculoskeletal system. Eventually, against my better judgment, I peeked over in his direction one more time…

My whole entire stance drooped like a wilting plant. He was gone.

-:-

**Thank you for the reviews, you wonderful people! I was completely giddy that people actually took time to read this, so getting reviewed made me squeal at my computer. My roommate thinks I'm crazy. More thanks to those who added this to their story alert, too. You guys rock. I'll say it again: thanks!**


	4. Toast Triangles and Mental Turmoil

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just own Doris. **

-:-

He was gone.

I tried to glance around without being too obvious, but he was nowhere in sight. And no wonder, with me sitting only a few feet away, probably sounding like I was poking fun at what had happened earlier that morning. I leaned back over the table, rested my chin in my hand, and resumed my meaningless tea-stirring. The cup was only half full now and I hadn't even taken a sip.

Life was back to bland for the moment. I sighed and wondered what my friends were doing back in Jacksonville. They were probably driving to the beach or shopping along the Riverfront Boardwalk, or maybe even planning on seeing a concert at Jack Rabbits. My ex-roommate was probably cake-tasting for her wedding and causing a public display of over-affection with her man-meat fiancé. And I was stirring tea. In Forks. In the precipitation capital of the United States. With old people.

I had no idea what I'd been thinking when I chose to come here. I supposed Renée's spontaneity could have rubbed off on me in a moment of weakness. The truth was that I'd been lonely. And because I was a person who literally and figuratively was always reaching for a Band-Aid to cover up physical and mental wounds, I automatically figured that it was my _location _causing the problem. So, I packed up my shit and planted myself in a town of three-thousand and some people to fix that.

_Checkmate, Bella. You lose._

Doris was still scuttling around the front of the lobby, and I started contemplating how to tell her that I'd made a mistake and probably wouldn't need my room again tonight. I thought of how Charlie would probably be disappointed that I wasn't happy and offer to fly up to save my weary soul with a magical fix-all fishing trip. Renée would most likely be thrilled that I was coming home and find me a handsome yoga or tai chi instructor as a 'welcome home' blind date. My friends would say _'I told you so.' _And I would fall back into my regular routine of blending in, hiding my emotions, and succumbing to a mundane existence.

My gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a flash of grayish-blue in the distance. I lifted my eyes minutely... jeans. As far as I recalled, I had been the only one wearing jeans this morning, seeing as I'd made a mental note that Forks was all about the khaki attire. Jessica and Lauren had both been wearing black pants. So, who was... oh, there was a gray shirt. A gray shirt on top of the jeans. That matched only one person I'd seen, and he was walking toward me.

_Oh, Lord, no_.

Unwilling to be prey to anymore embarrassment or haughty glares this morning, I shielded my eyes and leaned on my elbow. There was no urge to look at him now... he'd already seen me and heard me pry about "noises" on the fourth floor, and if he was actually heading to talk to me, I was probably in for a classic "Mind Your Own Damn Business" lecture. I watched his feet take step after step... yup, he was coming right toward me. My hand grappled my spoon as I reached to stir my tea again, causing a riotous clinking inside the mug. Appearing oblivious was never my strong suit.

Just as I thought, he slowed his steps and stopped at my table and I finally froze as my muscles grew stiff. I contemplated pretending I didn't notice him. Maybe he would feel like an idiot and leave.

_Yes, or maybe you're the idiot for not acknowledging a person standing right next to you._

I gradually lifted my head and stared up at him the way one might look at their executioner, and it was plain unfair to be at such a disadvantage - namely sitting. He seemed to tower over me, his uncertain gaze infiltrating me in a way that felt criminal. It sent my heart into a chaotic speed and even with shadowy circles under his eyes, he was strikingly good-looking.

Again, how unfair. I was speechless.

"Hello, again," he said.

My mouth parted and my eyes widened like a cartoon character's. His voice was a complete one-eighty from the last time we'd spoken: still quiet, but smooth and gentle, actually, with no traces of anger or irritation. Even his expression was softer.

He reached behind his ear and played with his hair when I didn't answer. "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night … or this morning, I suppose."

My brain had gone on a coffee break. I couldn't think of a response. I could only inhale small amounts of air, and then found out that exhaling was not going to be an option, either.

"I'm sure I frightened you," he continued, pausing a few moments to see if I would answer. When I didn't, he narrowed his eyes, looking a bit uncomfortable. "How's your head?"

My lungs were full and I was out of options. Catatonia was winning. But I knew if I didn't speak up, he would walk away and I'd be plagued with this moment of bafflement for the rest of my stay. After another painfully slow second, I managed to brilliantly reply with, "I... um, what?"

He almost looked amused as he lifted his finger to his temple, indicating what he meant. "Your cut?"

"Oh!" I'd completely forgotten. I was too distracted by the burning sting that my fingers were now pulsing with to remember the dull ache by my eyebrow. That, and a model-like man was standing in front of me. "It's … better."

"That's good," he said, bunching a fistful of his hair. "It was rude of me to leave you like that. I wouldn't have, normally. It's just… I was a bit distracted."

I nodded quickly, thankful for gestures, as I was still having trouble speaking. He still appeared uneasy, but didn't make a move to back up. "So..." he started, but then his eyes darted to something behind me and he quickly ducked his head, exhaling audibly. He leaned over slightly, close enough for me to hear him whisper, "Would you mind if I sat with you?"

My eyes had to have been like saucers. If he had been a demon whose sole purpose was to destroy my very life, I would have still let him sit with me. "Yes," I said quickly. "I mean, no! No, sit."

I bit my lip to stop the stupidity flow that kept escaping from my mouth.

"Thanks," he said, sliding into the chair across from me. "I'm just trying to avoid ... a somewhat awkward situation."

I raised my eyebrows. "Standing?"

"Edward!"

I turned my head, glancing over my shoulder at the shout. It was Jessica, striding from the kitchen and through the tables. I wondered which old guy she was calling to, but to my surprise, she stopped at _our _table.

_Edward. Huh. That's different._

"I thought I wasn't going to get a chance to say good morning. I've been running around like crazy," she said to him, a full-blown smile plastering her face. It was the first genuine one I'd seen out of her.

"Good morning," he replied somewhat unenthusiastically. To my amusement, he reminded me of a kid at a family Christmas party who had just gotten stuck sitting with the old, crazy aunt - the one who never stopped talking and smelled like a bad perfume factory. I bit back a smile.

"I thought you'd left," said Jessica sweetly, and if I was seeing correctly, she angled her arms inward to make her cleavage bigger. As if that were _possible_. "I did see you walking up the stairs, right?"

_Stalker_, I thought. Ha. I was such a hypocrite.

"I came back," he replied simply.

She didn't hide a frown as her eyes turned to me. "Hi, _Bella_." She must have spoken to Lauren; everyone else had called me Isabella.

"Hi," I said quietly.

"So … can I get you guys something? I saw that _you _didn't get to finish _your _breakfast," she said, smirking at me.

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks burn yet again.

"Could we have some toast, please?" Edward asked. I wondered if his request was because he hadn't eaten any of his breakfast, either, or he just wanted her to leave. _I_ wanted her to leave.

"Sure," Jessica replied, then boldly reached over and smoothed his hair. "Sorry, you had a piece of hair, like, sticking out," she added with a flirty giggle.

I wanted to vomit. And then rip off her boobs.

She pranced away, hips a-wagging, and disappeared behind the kitchen door. Edward looked apologetic. "Sorry," he said. "She's quite a…"

_Bitch?_

"Character," he finished.

_You say potato…_

"It's all right." I played with my fingernails, feeling a little disheartened, now knowing that he had sat with me in hopes of avoiding Jessica. Sure, it seemed as though he wasn't fond of her, but for a stupid moment, I thought that he was actually interested in my company. He probably felt obligated to stay, now.

"Is toast okay?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," I said. "She was right, anyway. I didn't finish. Although, I'm sure you saw."

"Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss," he teased, giving me the smallest bit of a smile.

The slight, upward curl of his lips was unexpected and enough to make my palms sweat. I was all too glad that he hadn't tried to shake my hand when he had walked over. Nonetheless, I frowned, still self-conscious. "I'm like that a lot. Solid walls seem to get in my way. I drop things. I trip over flat surfaces…"

He chuckled lightly. "Don't be embarrassed. I tripped down the stairs naked once."

My eyes widened and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Pressing my lips together, I tried not to picture it out of respect for his privacy. But I couldn't help myself. "Really?" I asked.

_Don't imagine him naked. Don't imagine him naked. Don't - damn it, there he is._

He paused, looking hesitant, as if he couldn't believe he'd just confessed such a thing. "Yes, really," he eventually continued. "I had just gotten out of the shower and was hurrying up the stairs, and my dad opened the door to the pizza girl. I tripped, rolled down backwards, and my towel stayed on the steps."

I laughed, but all the while thinking what a fucking lucky pizza girl.

"I never let him call Pizza Hut again," he said, shaking his head lightly, probably remembering. His expression seemed pained for a fleeting moment, but it was only that - brief. "So, Bella, not Isabella?"

I shrugged. "Isabella sounds so classy and elegant, you know? A little Victorian, maybe. Beautiful."

He stared at me curiously. "You honestly don't think you are?"

Before my heart had time to react, Jessica appeared and set a basket of toast triangles on the table, along with a plate of mini butter packets, fruit preserves, and honey. Now that there was food in front of me, I felt hungry again, and kind of wished he had ordered eggs. There was no way Jessica would have loogied up anything _he_ had asked for.

"Here you go," she said. "So, Edward, what are you doing later? Lauren and I are driving out to Olympia to meet her boyfriend. You should come. Maybe we'll see a movie or something?"

With every word out of her mouth, my stomach would flip-flop: hungry, not hungry; calm, nauseated; nervous, repulsed.

"No, thank you," said Edward smoothly. "You have fun."

"Are you sure?" she asked with a pleading look. It was impossible, _impossible_ for her to stick her chest any further into his face.

"Yes," said Edward. "I'm going to stay in tonight, actually."

Jessica played with her hair. "Oh. Well, let me know if you want some company. I'm, like, totally going to be a third-wheel later with Lauren and Tyler."

_Oh, and you're not already right now?_

Edward gave her a small, polite smile, and looked back at me. Jessica watched, looking disappointed, and then directed her attention to me. "By the way, I'm Jessica. _Stanley_."

I guessed the emphasis was supposed to intimidate me, like she was a _big name _in this town. If I'd been alone, I probably would have cowered under her gawking look, as usual, but having someone there who could quite obviously see through her mask, too, gave me some poise. "Do you prefer Jessica or Stanley?" I finally asked.

She scoffed audibly and clutched the tray she was holding until her knuckles turned white. "See you later, Edward." With that said, she swished away again, only to look back at me with a contemptuous glare.

"I somehow get the feeling she doesn't like me very much," I mumbled darkly, wondering exactly what I'd done to her other than show up with a dilapidated Chevy.

"Don't fret over it. People like her aren't worth worrying about," Edward said, looking after her with an agitated look of his own. "Hungry?" He pushed the toast toward me. "Ladies first."

I took a piece with a slight smile. "Thanks."

"So, we've sort of inadvertently been introduced," he said, "but even so, I'm Edward Masen, formally."

"Bella Swan," I said, thinking how sophisticated his name sounded when mine resembled a fat bird.

"Nice to meet you, Bella," he said gently. Man, his eyes were deep. They were so mysterious, like he had a thousand secrets beneath them. I had trouble breaking my gaze away from him.

"Yeah, you too," I replied, feeling my cheeks go pink again. He probably thought I had some sort of mental condition with all the staring I was doing.

He buttered a piece of toast and furrowed his eyebrows. "So, how did you do that, anyway? Hurt yourself, I mean?"

I inwardly debated on telling him the truth or making up a lie, but I was too damned interested in finding out what the hell he'd been going to pieces about earlier.

"Well," I said carefully, "I fell out of bed and knocked my head on the night table. I was kind of ... startled by the noise. I'd been dreaming and when I woke up, I heard banging … from the wall."

He nodded silently, appearing somewhat guilty. "I'm sorry about that," he said grimly.

"Hey, it's not your fault I'm the world's biggest klutz," I joked. The look on his face was depressing. "Um ... I don't want to pry," I continued, feeling shy. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but… what were you doing?"

He took a bite of his toast and looked at the table, probably to stall. When he finished chewing, he said, "You really don't know?"

I narrowed my eyes. Surprisingly, I hadn't given it that much thought. Maybe it was something totally obvious and I was just _oblivious._ He was a guy, after all - he could have been giving himself the mother of all masturbatory sessions for all I knew. Only, he looked pretty upset in the hallway... normally, people were more than blissful after _that_. I thought for a few more moments, and suddenly, it all made sense. My little light bulb went off hours too late.

"_Oh_," I said quietly. He'd been moaning and banging, and gasping, and sprinting down the stairs at one in the morning. Any normal person might have thought the word _nightmare _immediately, but of course, _I _hadn't. My mental capacity was not up to par, which was worrying. I decided to blame my head injury.

He noticed my change of expression and raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I'm - I'm sorry. I'm stupid. I didn't even think of that." _Because I'm brainless_. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?" I asked, just to make sure that was actually correct.

He nodded, averting his eyes. "You probably think I'm crazy."

I shook my head quickly, chuckling humorlessly. "You probably think _I'm _an idiot," I said, picking up some strawberry preserves to spread on my toast.

"No," he said. He palmed one of the apples from the basket and spun it around in his hand, giving me an interested look. "But I'm curious. If you didn't know before, then what did you think I was doing?"

I paused. There was no way I was confessing to thinking he'd been man-handling. "Screwing Doris," I admitted, going with my original thought.

The apple nearly dropped from his hand and he parted his lips in surprise. "You thought I was with _Doris_?"

"Well, sort of, but not for long. I figured _Mr. Masen_ was some old guy she had a thing for," I said.

He straightened his back. "How did you ever come to _that_?"

"I got here last night while you were playing the piano," I said. "Doris was showing me around and said that 'Mr. Masen' was amazing everyone at the moment in the Entertainment Hall. If you could have seen the look on her face… I thought she was talking about her lover, or something." I tried to hide my amused smile, but failed. I couldn't really blame Doris. If I was her age, I'd probably be just as captivated by him as she was. I kind of was _already, _and I had just met him.

He coughed an uncomfortable laugh. "So, you were intending on interrupting us then, if that was the case?"

"Well, no," I said, laughing, too. "I went to your door to see if you needed help."

"Help?" he inquired.

He must not have realized how distressed he'd sounded. _Well, of course not - he was asleep, you idiot. _Even so, I put down my knife and glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

"There are a lot of old people here," I whispered through my teeth. "I thought you were some old man who had fallen out of bed and broken his hip. I was just checking_._"

His gorgeous eyes widened and he broke into a crooked grin. "Bella Swan, the Good Samaritan."

"Well, wouldn't you?" I asked, fighting to not appear so entranced by the sight of his smile. "If you'd heard what I did?"

His expression softened and he looked down at the apple in his palms. "I don't know. I'm not comfortable going up to strangers' doors."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, you're saying that if it had been _me _smacking my fists against the wall or bed, screaming-"

He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Okay, not screaming. But moaning or crying or _something… _Wouldn't you get an urge to go check and see if everything was all right?" I asked.

"Well, I'd certainly be curious and would hope that everything was okay, if that's what you mean," he said, placing the apple on the table and folding his hands in front of him.

"So, you wouldn't check?"

Edward thought for a moment, then sighed. "Bella, if you saw a shadowy figure in a house, would you ring the doorbell to investigate if everything was safe and sound? Or would you call the police, instead?"

I briefly thought of Charlie, who would doubtlessly have my ass if I ever did anything so remotely stupid as to knock on a stranger's door when there was possible danger present. Yet, that was exactly what I had been about to do only hours ago. "That's different," I scoffed. "If I _saw _something like that, I'd call for help, but last night, I just thought someone - _you _- were hurt."

He looked down at his hands. "I suppose you meant well. You just don't understand how things like that can be dangerous."

Who was he to tell me something like that? "I don't, is that right? And how long have you been background checking me?" I asked, frowning. I didn't want to get angry with him, but hearing him say something like that was a hard thing to swallow.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm not questioning your instinct, I'm just saying … I'm not as trusting as you seem to be."

We were quiet for a few moments.

"I would have called management," he said finally. "If I heard any kind of strange noise through my wall, I'd call management."

I raised my eyebrows. Management? I pictured Doris in a Ghostbusters suit, making the climb to the fourth floor to knock a nightmare demon out of someone.

"You'd call _management_," I repeated plainly.

"I think it would be for the best, yes."

I stared at him, finding it hard to believe that he would cower in a corner if he'd heard someone seemingly in trouble in the next room. Honestly, I didn't _really _know him, and he could very well be a wimp who would rather call for help than save the day, but his eyes were telling me a totally different story. Plus, his voice sounded strange, rehearsed. Also, he looked determined, as if he was trying to get a point across to me. He could have been lying, but _why_? I eyeballed him for a few moments and then decided that I didn't believe him. I huffed quietly and took a large bite of toast, too chicken to call him out.

He studied my expression and sighed. "You're getting a bad first impression of me."

"Well, it's not like you got a good first impression of me," I grumbled with my mouth full. "I certainly didn't intend on meeting someone when I was half-dressed and bloody."

"I _am_ sorry for that," he said, sounding sincere.

"Don't sweat it. It would have happened sooner or later," I muttered, having no doubt about that.

Time passed as we silently ate. It was wearisome to try to figure out what was going on inside the head of a total stranger, and my mind was spinning with questions. He definitely had a smooth demeanor, but I could tell there was something he wasn't letting me know.

_Maybe he's just private. Or maybe this is his polite way of indicating that you should never come knocking on his doorstep, even just to say hello. Or maybe-_

"Some things are better left unsaid, Bella," said Edward suddenly, as if he was reading my mind. "I'm not trying to upset you."

_Well, aren't you the intuitive one_?

"I know," I answered too quickly, and ate the last bite of my toast.

"Do you?" For the umpteenth time that morning, I had trouble forming a coherent thought as his reflective irises seemed to pour out a flood of emotion, reservation, and longing all at the same time. How did he _do_ that without breaking a sweat?

A languid "Mm-hmm," was all I could come up with. No one's eyes had ever had an effect on me like that. Damn him and his good looks and mysterious charm, and his secretive false answers, and his ability to spellbind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jessica leaning against the banister on the stairs, looking a bit too satisfied that our faces had suddenly turned solemn. Damn her, too.

"Okay," Edward said, probably thinking that was all he was going to get from me at that moment. "Thanks for letting me sit with you."

That was an end-of-conversation line. He was going to go. I had an almost uncontrollable (and embarrassing) urge to reach out, grasp his arm, and tell him to stay. Or to take me with him, wherever he was going next.

Sure enough, he asked, "Are you finished?"

I nodded and moved slowly to grasp the table as I stood up, not wanting to fall and give the rest of the room an encore of my circus act. Edward seemed to feel that way too, watching me intently, as if ready to shoot out his hand and steady me, if need be. He walked me to the lobby and we stood by the door in an awkward air.

"I hope you don't think too badly of me," he said somberly.

I shook my head. "I don't," I said honestly. "You just … make me wonder."

He smiled a bit at that, though there was no real happiness in it. "I'm not the greatest person to talk to."

"What makes you say that?" I asked. "You told me about your experience in taking a naked dive down the stairs. That's got to count for something."

He gave me a halfhearted grin and shrugged. "Well, have a good day, Bella. It really was nice to meet you properly." With that, he turned to walk toward the door. I scrambled mentally, not wanting this to be our last conversation. In three seconds, he was going to be out the door and walking into the rain. _Without a coat_, my mom-conscience noted.

"Edward?" I said, slightly raising the volume of my voice so he could hear. He turned back and looked at me, a surprising look of sadness having resided on his face.

_Now what do I say_? I racked my brain. _Crap_.

"Were you-" I stopped, having to swallow so I could speak without squeaking. _God_. "Were you serious before? I mean, when you said that you were staying in tonight?"

He looked somewhat surprised at my question. "Yes," he replied.

"Well…" Oh, this was humiliating. Worse than the time I had tripped across the stage at graduation. And the time I'd puked in my purse on my twenty-first birthday. And probably a couple of other things that I couldn't think of because I was about to embarrass myself again. "I was wondering if you're planning on watching the movie they're showing tonight? Because I am … and I don't really know anybody. So, if you were … maybe we could sit together?"

I could barely look him in the eyes. I could feel blood boiling beneath my cheeks, totally giving away any dignity I had left. This probably would be _my_ nightmare later, reliving the moment where he either was going to laugh at me, turn me down, or just bolt out the door - possibly a combination of all three.

"You want to sit with me?" he asked, sounding genuinely stunned.

Was he really going to make me say it again before he rejected me? "Yes?" I couldn't stop saying things in question form. I was too far gone to use proper grammar.

After a moment, he chuckled. He was officially _laughing _at me. I knew it. Why hadn't I just kept my mouth shut and let him walk out into the rain where he could catch a cold and then warm up with Jessica _Stanley,_ and probably wake me in the middle of the night again with an actual 'banging' on the wall?

"You should probably stay away from me, Bella," he said, his smirk diminishing.

"Yeah, no, it's fine if you don't want to. I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"I didn't say I didn't want to," he said, taking a few steps toward me and focusing on his feet. "I just … I should come with a warning label, really."

I stared at him, wishing I could put my hands over my face so he couldn't see me turning completely scarlet. He seemed to be inwardly struggling to answer me, like he was trying to solve a difficult math equation. I wished he would just turn me down already.

He finally looked up and said in a velvety voice, "Save me a seat?"

After a few seconds of shocked silence, I nodded like a just-been-flicked bobblehead. "Okay," I barely whispered.

"Okay," he repeated, giving me a small, quick smile. A second later, he turned on his heel and went out the door, which rang a little bell at his departure. I watched him through the window until he was out of sight and then as I turned around, I noticed Doris grinning at me from behind her desk, grinning as wide as the freaking Grand Canyon. She gave me a thumbs-up.

I smiled back to please her and booked it to the stairs, rushing to my room as fast as I could. I tripped on the third floor's staircase, but I still made it in what was possibly a record time. I shut the door behind me and collapsed in a heap on the bed, breathing as though I'd just finished a race.

_Holy shit_. Unbelievably, he agreed to meet me later that night. After our first meeting, I would have never in a million years imagined _that_. I laughed out loud, amused at the catastrophic butterflies that were whirling around my insides. _That's new._

This certainly _was _a distraction: a stranger with complicated layers who made my heart pound. After the past couple years, I would never have thought it possible. But it was true. I was going to have a movie-watching-session with this guy, surrounded by senior citizens. It wasn't a date, but I would still be in close proximity. I cringed at the thought of what I should wear.

As I sat on my bed, I sighed, peering at my bags that I had been ready to pack a half hour ago. I still wasn't sure if I was in Forks for the right reasons, but at that moment, whether they were good reasons or bad ones, I didn't care.

I was definitely staying for at least a few more days.

-:-

**So does anyone think Edward's a complete jackass, or just a misunderstood, tortured soul? Or both? He's got issues; forgive him. There wasn't much angst in this chapter … but trust me, it will come soon enough. In bucketfuls.**

**Oh, I posted this story over on Twilighted(dot)net under the pen name 'Orangesky728' - that's my other alias. I didn't want anyone thinking I was plagiarizing or being plagiarized. No worries. ;)**

**I love my reviewers and their reviews. All 8 of them! Haha. In all seriousness, a major thanks to those who do review, read, favorite, story alert, etc. It's an awesome feeling. For those who do review, I may just feel gracious enough to send you a snippet of the next chapter. Try me!**


	5. Fender Bender

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Actually, you know, I do. I bought it at Barnes and Noble. O.o**

-:-

Lunch came, and because I was still unfamiliar with most of the people (and because Jessica and Lauren were still on duty), I decided to take my food and pay a visit to my truck. As I walked through the parking lot, I noticed that all the cars were gathered together on the opposite side of the lot. Even the silver Volvo had moved.

"Ironic, isn't it?" I muttered to my Chevy.

I climbed into the driver's seat and picked at the random things I had grabbed from the buffet: salad, a few packets of crackers, and a banana I'd snatched from a basket. It was okay, but if I continued eating like a bird, I was going to feel faint later; that was all I needed to happen. Edward's appearance alone made me feel as though I'd been sucked of energy, and he'd undeniably think something was up with me if I collapsed at his feet like a cliche damsel in distress. For dinner, I definitely needed to order something containing meat or fish, or beans-anything with protein. Even if Jessica was still around, I would have to chance it; all I could do was hope that I wouldn't catch oral herpes.

As I finished my lunch, the rain began to slow and after a few moments, it stopped altogether. I almost took that as an opportunity to rush back inside the lodge before another downpour started, but I felt too antsy to read. I thought I would go bonkers if I sat around inside, just waiting for the movie (which was at seven-thirty... T-minus six hours and seventeen minutes). The sky was still dark, but I figured it might be fun to take a drive. After all, it seemed to be a very scenic town and I'd been too distracted by the rain the night before to fully take it in. Plus, I needed something to do so I wouldn't explode with anticipation or throw up from being nervous.

I turned my keys in the ignition, praying that my baby had had enough rest from yesterday's trek. I smiled proudly as it grumbled to life-although, it sounded like a grumpy child being woken from a nap.

"That's my girl," I cooed. I put the gear in reverse and backed out slowly, unable to help wondering if Edward had gone for a walk, possibly to town. Yet, it was a little too chilly and wet to _walk _somewhere, so maybe he had-

Suddenly, a loud, stomach-turning bang came from behind me. _Oh, shit._

I turned off my truck and instantly hopped out, hoping that whatever I had just hit was a "tank," too. At the foot of my truck, there was a light blue Camaro; I'd backed right into its front right wheel. When a girl with long, dark hair exited the car with a somber grimace, I wanted to scream. Why another chick my age? Couldn't I have backed into some soccer mom or bank investor? I'd take their anger any day over more of this asinine high-school drama.

"I'm so sorry!" Her words shocked me. _She _was sorry? She gave me a shameful glance and shook her head. "I saw you backing up and went to hit the brake, and my shoe got stuck on the accelerator. You didn't get whiplash, did you?"

It seemed as though my mouth had fallen open during every first encounter of every person that I'd met so far. "No, no," I answered her quickly, amazed that she hadn't started shrieking at me at a noise level that only dogs could hear. "It wasn't your fault, it's mine. I can't believe I didn't see you. _I'm_ sorry."

The girl smiled a little. "I guess these things happen, huh?"

I was so relieved that she was being nice that I couldn't help myself from breaking into a childish grin. "Yeah, unfortunately. Let me just pull back in and we'll check your tire." Like _I _knew anything about cars! But, I owed it to her to make sure nothing was damaged. After pulling back into my space (and another backfire-Chevy and I were going to have to find a Jiffy Lube soon), I walked over to her car, seeing a small dent in the car's body, right above the tire.

To my surprise, again, the girl laughed. "Gives it character, don't you think?"

"I'll pay for it," I offered quickly, feeling horrible.

"Oh, no," she said. "This car's on it's last leg, anyway. I've been dying to get a new one, but I told myself I wouldn't until this monster dies completely. So, don't worry about it. I'm actually kind of disappointed that you didn't hit me a little harder." She smiled again and held out her hand. "I'm Angela."

"Nice to meet you," I replied, thrilled to meet someone around my age who didn't glare daggers at me or emit cryptic vibes. "I'm Bella."

"Oh, Isabella Swan, I suppose?" she asked.

"…Yeah." How did everyone know my name around here?

"Doris has been on about you for a week now," said Angela, probably reading my bemused expression. "She was like a mother kangaroo, bouncing around and waiting for her joey. She gets attached to a lot of the guests, and she adored Chief Swan like a son…I guess she probably thinks of you like family."

"Oh ... I suppose." That certainly fit Doris's personality. "So, do you work here?" I asked her, noticing that she had the same white shirt-blank pants attire that Jessica and Lauren had been sporting. Only, Angela's neckline was much more modest.

"I volunteer," she said. "Going on four years. I started when I was in college and I come a couple of times a week, now. I'm a nurse over at Forks Community Hospital, Saturday through Tuesday, but I get bored on my days off, so I like to come up here and visit."

"That's really nice of you," I said, wondering if I could ever give up a Friday night to be around Jessica Stanley and Lauren whatever-the-hell-her-last-name-was.

Angela shrugged and smiled. "I've gotten attached to it, I guess. Well, I'm sorry-I'm holding you up. Have fun wherever you're going, unless you want to stay and help me clean to make up for that dent you put in my car."

I flushed another shade of pink for the hundredth time that day. "I-I-"

"Bella!" Angela said, giggling. "I'm joking."

"I'm _sorry_," I apologized again, still kicking myself for being too distracted with thoughts of Edward to pay more attention to my rear-view mirror. "Actually, I would love to help you out, if I could. I'm desperate for something to do."

The more I thought about it, anyway, the sky was looking darker by the minute. It was probably better that I didn't try to explore the town without one of the maps Doris had given me, which were somewhere in my bedroom-at least, I thought they were. I'd lost track of most of my organizational skills somewhere between gazing into Edward's eyes and when he'd agreed to sit with me later that night.

"You really don't have-" she started to say, but I supposed my pleading expression stopped her. "Okay. I'd love some help."

She was nice enough to not make a comment like 'God, you must be bored out of your mind,' or 'Are you sure you don't have something more important to do, like knit your loser self a fucking sweater?' I waited for her by the door as she parked and then followed her back inside. I stopped in my tracks as I got a look at the lobby; it was as if a large broom had swept through the lodge and collected all of guests-no one was around. Then, I heard a faint voice say, "I-24 ... I-24 ... That's the letter 'I' … with a twenty-four."

"Bingo," Angela said with a giggle. "Sometimes this place is more like a retirement center."

I chuckled and followed her back through the kitchen door. A tall man with a spotted apron and a kind, ruddy face gave her a wave. "Hey, Ang!"

"Hi, Tom," said Angela amicably. "This is Bella; she's just helping me out."

"Hi, Bella," said Tom, who I figured to be the chef. "Bella, as in Isabella?"

"Yes," I replied, finally figuring that everyone knew my story by now. "Charlie Swan's daughter. Are you the same Tom who makes the best sweet potato pie Forks has ever tasted?" Charlie had raved about that damned pie; I'd tried to replicate the recipe, but Charlie always said there was something missing.

Tom gave a hearty laugh. "That's me. Tell your dad that if he comes up to visit soon, I'll bake him a couple to take home to his woman."

I blushed, thinking about Charlie and Renée as a couple. I had to keep reminding myself that they truly were together again; I could only hope it would stay that way. Angela led me to a storage closet and we each carried a bucket of cleaning supplies out to the café area. I began sweeping the floor behind Angela as she brushed crumbs off the tables with a sponge.

"That's another thing," said Angela with a shy smile. "Volunteering has it's perks. I _do_ get free food out of it, and Tom makes the best Chicken Chesapeake. If you're planning on having dinner here tonight, I'll coax him into making you some if it's not already on the menu. It's really to die for."

I was suddenly joyous to know that there was someone I could trust to transport my food from the kitchen to my table, without adding in their own "special" ingredient. "_Thanks_," I said with dynamism. "I've been looking forward to trying something hot for once."

She raised her eyebrows questioningly. I hesitated to say anything; for all I knew, she could have been one of Jessica and Lauren's best friends. "Well," I said, pulling at my sleeve, "I met Jessica and Lauren. And I guess I've been afraid that they wouldn't be too enthusiastic about waiting on me."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Giving you a hard time, are they? Don't worry about them. They get intimidated by anyone with a pretty face."

Pretty face? _My_ face? Was she seeing me clearly?

"They're attention-seekers," she continued. "We used to be close, but … I don't know, I guess I grew up a bit and they think they're still in high school. I suppose they think whoever wears the most Gucci and who is more up to date on _The Hills_ is the better catch. Who knows?"

"Mm," I said quietly, concentrating on sweeping up every bit of dust and crumbs. Angela was sort of a saving grace; I didn't want to half-ass any work I was doing.

"So, have you made any acquaintances, Bella?" she asked as she cleaned. "Did Doris introduce you to the quilting circle yet?" She smiled, her eyes teasing through her thick-rimmed glasses.

"Not yet," I said with a laugh. "Although, I did meet someone. He and I had breakfast together."

"Oh?" she said. "Is he nice?"

"I _think_," I said. She glanced up from the table at me, her eyes curious. "I guess I mean that he seems a little distracted."

"Was it Mr. Miller?" she asked. "He's some kind of genius, and always has a look on his face like he's mentally conjuring a new invention. Gray-haired, short, always wears a red tie? Plays chess like Bobby Fischer?"

"No, not him. His name's Edward."

Angela stopped wiping the table. "Edward?" she repeated, staring at me with wide eyes. "Edward Masen?"

I nodded, feeling my heart sink at her expression; she probably had a frenetic crush on him, too. I sighed and leaned on the broom. There went any amiability that she had for me.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"What for?" said Angela, now looking at me with interest. "I think that's _great_."

I looked up, perplexed. "You do?"

"Yes!" said Angela, smiling as she started moving her rag back across the mahogany table. "It's about time that boy talked to someone. You must have really made an impact on him."

"_Hardly_," I said, thinking of freaking him out in the middle of the night and him watching me spill my breakfast contents on and off the very table that Angela was cleaning. "So … do you know him, then?"

Angela frowned. "Not very well. I mean, we exchange hellos and minimal amounts of small talk. He talks to me more than the other girls … probably because I don't fawn over him like he's some sort of prize."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. Was that what I was doing? _No way_, my mind answered. _I don't fucking fawn_.

Angela suddenly laughed. "No wonder Jessica and Lauren are giving you hell."

"They like him, too, then?" As the words tumbled out of my blurting mouth, I was sure I turned crimson. Angela just smiled.

"Like I said, they're thirsty for attention," Angela replied. "I don't think they actually even _like _him; he's attractive, so it's as if they compete with each other on who he responds to the most-not that he does. I think it's good for them to have a reality check."

I nodded in agreement, thinking of all the harsh looks I'd been thrown from the both of them. Though, Jessica and Lauren weren't just average-looking girls; they were the highly above-average, mainstream 'hot girl' type. If Edward didn't give them the time of day, why would he even go out of his way to speak to _me _that morning? I guessed he only wanted to apologize, as he'd done, but still… Angela made it sound like he barely spoke to anyone. He'd been less than informative with me, but he still was verbose enough. What did _I_ have that they didn't?

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how did you meet him?" Angela asked, moving over to start wiping the windowsills with a dust cloth.

"He's in the room next to me," I said. "We kind of ran into each other in the hallway."

Angela nodded, creasing her eyebrows. "So, how is he? Did he talk much?"

_Like a government agent; mysterious and never giving a full answer._ I nodded. "Yeah, he talked more than I did, actually." I'd forgotten that during parts of our conversation, I was merely staring at him in bedazzlement, unable to form full sentences.

"I'm only asking because-well, I've got to be honest. I'm a little worried about him," Angela said.

"Oh," I said, wondering why her words surprised me. "Why?"

"Well, most of the time, he just looks plain exhausted," she explained, shaking out the cloth. "Other times, he looks … sad, sort of miserable. He's kind, though, and very polite. He just doesn't seem happy, I guess."

I nodded. So, I _wasn't_ the only one who noticed. "How long has he been staying here?"

"About two weeks, maybe," she said after a pause. "I'm glad that he finally has someone to be friends with."

Friends. I wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. After all, he'd said that I should stay away from him. But then, why would he agree to see me again? "_Save me a seat?"_ God, what beautiful words. Remembering his voice sent a warm flush throughout my bloodstream.

"Bella?"

I'd stopped sweeping and was staring into space, preoccupied out of total asinine infatuation. It was too damn humiliating to stand there and pretend that I wasn't just as bad as Jessica Stanley.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm just-I'm just _nervous_."

"About what?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "Him?"

"I'm supposed to see him tonight," I confided. "I asked him to sit with me for the movie, and he said he would."

Angela smiled. "Really? Huh. He must like you."

At her words, my heart doubled its normal rate. "No-I don't know-I mean-he's probably just doing it to be polite-you said he was polite, right? He probably feels like he _has _to since he scared the hell out of me-plus, he thinks he made me cut my damn head open last night-in reality, I'm just clumsy-"

"Whoa, Bella," said Angela, still grinning. "Calm down. He-wait-he thinks he made you cut your head open?" she added, looking bemused.

"I guess it's a long story," I said, sucking in a breath of air, as I hadn't breathed once during my little outburst. "Anyway, as for him liking me, I'm pretty sure that's not the case."

Angela resumed cleaning the windows with a small shrug, taking after Doris with her knowing smiles. "Whatever you say. But, you should know, he's never gone before."

I blinked, confused. "He's never gone where?"

"To movie night," she said. "I've never seen him there on the nights that I've been here. And Doris keeps tabs on him like her own son… she's mentioned that he's never attended one."

I didn't have a response for that-not a verbal one, anyway. My insides were still flipping around like pancakes. Angela and I finished cleaning the café and I willingly followed her around to clean the sitting area, vacuum the floors, and dust the furniture, hoping to keep myself busy so I wouldn't think too much about what was coming in now less than four hours. After her cleaning duties were more or less finished, Angela kept me company until Doris called her away for some clerical obligations.

I had lost count at the number of times I'd glanced at the door every time the little bell jingled as someone went in or out.

_God, stop being so pathetic! _The cynical part of me was getting frustrated.

I decided to direct my gaze somewhere else, and browsed the bookcases until I had an armload of novels and poetry books. I climbed the four flights to my room (at least I was getting a workout) and sat on my bed, deciding to read _Jane Eyre_. I got pretty far until the name _Edward _Rochester popped up. I hadn't read it since high school and had forgotten that particular name was involved, so I tossed the book to the side, thinking that _Jane Eyre_ probably wasn't the best distraction.

I picked up the next book on the pile and leaned back against my pillows to read. It was a book of Robert Frost's poems. I sighed contentedly and flipped to a random page, titled _Spring Pools_.

_These pools that, though in forests, still reflect_

_The total sky almost without defect,_

_And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,_

_Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,_

_And yet not out by any brook or river,_

_But up by roots to bring dark foliage on._

_The trees that have it in their pent-up buds_

_To darken nature and be summer woods -_

_Let them think twice before they use their powers_

_To blot out and drink up and sweep away_

_These flowery waters and these watery flowers_

_From snow that melted only yesterday. _

I sighed. _Greedy trees._ I stretched my arms out across the bed and inhaled deeply, then released my breath. Not surprisingly, I started thinking about Edward and his inexplicable character. After hearing what Angela had said about him, I was more intrigued and curious than I'd ever been about anyone.

Rolling onto my side and curling my arms around a pillow, I pressed my face to its downy body and wondered if he frequently had nightmares, or if it was a random thing. I supposed that he was young enough to have been a cop or a soldier who had a traumatic experience in the field, and with the endless crime that went on nowadays, it was definitely a possibility that he had been through something. Maybe he'd had his innocence sucked away like the pools in Frost's poem.

I felt myself growing woozy as I inhaled the fresh linen scent that the pillowcase was emitting. Had someone changed my sheets? I hadn't even realized that my bed had been remade until right then. Along with becoming intrigued over a boy I barely knew, I had also never been so _distracted_ in my entire life. I'd always had a sharp mind and until recently, I was acting as though I had short-term memory loss, combined with the observational skills of a mole rat.

I heard Renée in my head, remembering what she'd told me when I was dating a T.A. over a year ago. "Bella, don't let a boy take over your life; you'll be a wrinkled, old mess when they're done with you." Of course, that was back when Renée and Phil had been having their early-onset of problems.

_God, this bed feels good._

Even so, I couldn't get him out of my mind. I'd never encountered someone quite like him, and had certainly never felt so drawn to someone without having a valid reason, other than his damn handsome face. Tonight would either satisfy my longing to see him or worsen it if he was still so inscrutable. Maybe he wouldn't have a chance to be-we were only watching a movie, after all. Hopefully I'd be able to concentrate, or I would have to sit there for two-plus hours still wracked with curiosity.

Either way, I'd get to see him… next to me…

Unwillingly, my eyes drifted closed.

-:-

**I can't even say how much it means to me that people gave me the kindest, most encouraging reviews. Honestly, it keeps me fueled and nothing goes unappreciated. Thank you, thank you, thank you! :)**


	6. The Green Mile

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I only get to enjoy that time of day from my balcony, waiting for my own "Edward" to climb up and rock my world. Actually, that might be weird. Perhaps I could meet a guy in a coffee shop?**

**Also, for those of you who have not seen The Green Mile, there are some spoilers from the movie in here. I tried to be vague so I wouldn't ruin it completely for anyone who hasn't seen it-and if you haven't, dear God, please do. It's phenomenal.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

-:-

I gripped the trunk of the tree, the black bark crumbling off in pieces from the damp. Amongst the sound of the wind, I could hear drops of water make delicate plops as they hit the ground below, sending rippling circles across the puddles of water around me. I was completely entranced by their artless depths of beautiful, lucent liquid. My bare feet slowly sunk into the ground, and the breeze kissed the strands of my hair, lifting them toward the sky. I tilted my head back and breathed deeply, the scent of fresh rain filling my senses.

I was intoxicated.

I stayed that way until the breeze blew harder-stronger-and forced me to step away from the sturdy trunk. The branches swayed and billowed, rustling with intensity. I felt intimidated, suddenly, and I heard an odd gurgling coming from below. The seeping ground was slowly losing its pools of water-they were diminishing before me. The harder the tree branches blew, the faster the crystalline fluid was being sucked, drained. I tried to scoop the water into my hands, desperate to rescue even the slightest bit, but it evaporated from my hands as the wind fiercely propelled into me.

I gave a last glance to the pool that my feet were stuck in. It flashed a radiant green-the most heavenly color I'd ever seen-and tears formed in my eyes as I realized that, it, too, was the next to be gone. The green suddenly flashed crimson, then coal black, and the water disappeared completely.

Sinking to my knees, I clawed at the solid ground with helpless fingers, frantic to get it back. But the dirt was now desiccated, and my attempts to dig were fruitless. The culprit trees swayed violently above me noisily, as though cackling with spite.

And then, I awoke with a gasp.

I lay stunned, as though still drifting from the dream to reality, feeling dizzy. What the fuck? Did I really-? I did! I'd had a nightmare from _poetry!_ What kind of effect was this place having on me, anyway? I sat up and rubbed my face, feeling groggy. I should have known that reading in bed would put me to sleep.

Feeling thirsty, I slid off the bed and went to into the bathroom. Forming a cup with my hands, I stuck them under the chrome faucet and drank five handfuls of water, sustaining my dry throat. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I had creases all over my face from the pillowcase.

_Real appealing._ I looked like freaking Freddy Kruger.

I walked back out into my room, rubbing my eyes and running a hand through my tangled hair. I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised that I had fallen asleep; it wasn't as though I'd exactly slept like a baby the night before. I picked up my cell phone to check the time ... and then almost had a conniption.

_It was seven-nineteen!_

A string of obscene expletives rang throughout my mind as I lurched across the room, practically diving into my duffel bag. I ripped my hairbrush out of the side pocket and waded through my clothes, looking for a less-wrinkled shirt than the one I had on-one that Edward hadn't seen me in already. I needed something fresh, and fast. Pulsing with panic, I finally chose a cinched-neck, dark gray shirt with blue flowers, which seemed innocent enough. I was no _Jessica_, that was for sure, so I wasn't about to start dressing like a complete hooker. I grabbed my thin, black hoodie, too, in case I got cold, or suddenly decided to get even more modest.

I ran my brush through my hair, praying that it would settle down and stop sticking up on the right side of my head, and scrutinized the rest of my appearance. I still had pillow marks on my face. Perfect.

_Hi, Edward. Please don't let my bed head poke you in the eye. Oh, yeah, I was sleeping, so don't mind the splotches on my face. I dreamt that trees were stealing your eye color._

Hoping to eliminate some of my 'just-woke-up' guise, I dug through my makeup bag and brushed a layer of powder over my cheeks, minimizing a bit of the red (both the marks and the flush of my face), and dabbed on some lip gloss. I decided against mascara, thinking that there was a good chance of me poking myself in the eye, and then I'd probably have the luck to cry at whatever movie was being shown-I couldn't even remember what Doris had said they were playing. Streaky, black eyes would probably be a turn-off, and just downright scary.

At seven-twenty-nine exactly, I attentively opened my door. For some reason, I didn't want to bump into him in the hallway. I wanted to have that _moment_… a moment of exhilaration from seeing someone you hadn't seen in awhile. For me, that was only a little over ten hours, but _still_. I didn't see him, so I hurried down the stairs.

_You're right on time. Relax._

Showing up on time didn't seem desperate…did it? No, it was polite. Right? I stopped walking in the middle of the second floor staircase.

_You're not going to a surprise party! There's no fashionably late for this, there's just late. Go!_

I screwed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. If I wanted to see him, I was going to have to move. I carefully walked down the rest of the stairs, praying that I would not fall on my ass or face, as per usual. I didn't need any more visible bruises, anyway. I made it to the lobby unscathed and watched as some of the other guests filtered into the Entertainment Hall. A man in a red tie walked by me, and unless I was mistaken, he was reciting chess strategies under his breath. Aha-I knew who he was. He noticed me and his pensive face gave a small curl of a smile. "Evening, Ms. Bella."

"Hi, Mr. Miller," I said, thrilled that I could actually acknowledge someone by name. I gave and received a few waves from some ever-increasing familiar faces, trying not to appear like I was looking for someone.

He wasn't there.

My heart slowed to a dull thud at that realization, but I tried to remain indifferent. There was still time … sort of. I could hear Doris ushering people to different seats, and I looked up at a grandfather clock that stood by the door. Seven-thirty-two. I swallowed, thinking that maybe I should just go inside and sit down-he had asked me to _save _him a seat, after all. If he didn't show up, then fine. At least no one but Angela knew that I was meeting him, except maybe Doris. I wasn't positive if she'd actually heard what I'd asked him when she saw us talking or not, but I could only imagine the inquiry that I would be in for if she had _and_ he didn't show. The thought made me a bit queasy.

A few more minutes ticked by, and I could see the lights dim ever so slightly in the Entertainment Hall. They were starting.

_Might as well just go in._ I really hoped that Jessica had ended up joining Lauren and Thomas, or Terrence-whoever it was who had voluntarily agreed to be her fuck-buddy-boyfriend. If she was in there with her glaring eyes and bowling-ball boobs, I was going to be-

The little bell atop the door chimed then, and I quit breathing. I wasn't facing the correct way, so I dug the balls of my feet into the floor so that I could restrain myself from whirling around to see who it was.

"Bella?"

I spun around very slowly, like one of those little ballerinas that came in wind-up jewelry boxes. Edward was in the doorway holding a travel-tray with two paper coffee cups sitting inside. His shoulders were wet with rainwater.

"Don't you have a coat?" I blurted out.

My mind went ballistic. _Don't you have a coat? How about 'Hi,' or 'Good evening?' Even 'Yo' would do! A coat. What are you, his mother?_

He looked amused. "No. Hello to you, too."

"Hi," I said, feeling stupid. I took in his appearance as he stepped further inside the lobby, the door chiming again as it closed. He looked as magnificent as ever as he brushed his damp hair off of his forehead.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, stealing a glance at the grandfather clock. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Nope," I said quickly. "I just came down the stairs." I was _such_ a liar.

He cleared his throat and offered me one of the paper cups. "I thought you might like one," he said. "I wasn't sure what you drink, but I saw that you had tea at breakfast. They had, like, twenty different kinds, but I thought maybe you'd like a Chai tea latte?"

He'd bought me tea. The _good, fancy_ kind. Not only that, but my _favorite_ kind. My hormones started dancing, both from his gesture and because I _loved _that spicy, sweet, liquid-crack.

"Thank you," I said, reaching up to take it from him, and I could feel my heart pound as my fingers brushed against his hand. "Actually, those are my favorite. I get them all the time in Jacksonville."

"Jacksonville?" he repeated. "As in Florida? You're a long way from home."

I nodded. _Yes, I definitely am. And I'm kind of loving it so far._ I could have stood there all night, gazing at him, but suddenly Doris's voice echoed through the lobby. "Mr. Masen, Isabella! Are you two joining us?" She was beaming, even though Lauren was at her side, eyeing me with a fierce displeasure. Great. So, she didn't go to Olympia after all. If Jessica was here, too, that would be the icing on my crappy-luck cake.

Edward gave her a small nod. "Be right there, Doris."

Doris chuckled giddily as she disappeared into the Entertainment Hall, as if a thirteen year-old girl was stuck in her sixty-five year-old body. Lauren walked toward us, threw me a death glare, and then stalked out the front door. Jealous little piss ant.

Edward raised his eyebrows at me. "Shall we?"

"Sure," I said, trying to shake my voice of its shy tone. _You__ will not fall all over him. You are not Jessica Stanley. You are skank-free._

Doris had embellished the Entertainment Hall to look like a little theatre, with red curtains adorning the walls and little cord-ropes draped across the back. Fold-out chairs with red and brown cushions were lined in rows, leaving space for a makeshift aisle. It was cute, charming. Most of the older men and women had chosen seats in the very front, probably so they could see better; though, I had no problem sitting near the back with Edward. Thankfully, there was no sign of Jessica ... or Angela, though I was disappointed about that. Edward gestured for me to sit first, and I took a seat in a row with only two other ladies, who smiled at us from the opposite end. They grinned knowingly at one another and whispered, then looked back at us and smiled again.

God. It was like having a date (or non-date) with multiple grandmothers around.

Edward didn't seem to notice, so I breathed a quick sigh and looked at the screen, which was just like a pull-down projector shade one would see in classrooms. I suddenly felt a bit of déjà vu, as though I was back in high school Biology, about to watch some sort of film on amphibian DNA. In high school, I'd sat next to a boy with body odor as a freshman, a girl who chewed her pencils to pieces my sophomore year, a boy who slept through most of class during junior year, and was stuck with the cocky football captain, who pretended that I didn't exist, when I was a senior. This was profoundly _much_ better than high school-I had the scent of my latte instead of formaldehyde, and _Edward _was absolutely nothing like that Beef-arm McJockstrap idiot.

We sat quietly as the movie started-The Green Mile-I remembered, now. I had never seen the film, but it captivated me from the very beginning. The old retirement center that the old man, Paul Edgecomb, lived in mirrored us somewhat: his bad dreams, the residents surrounding the common area television, the rainstorm that ravaged the sky… Even the old lady, Elaine, sitting down to tea with Paul to talk about his past after he'd left the common area in tears was familiar. It was like Edward and I, only fifty years older. Though, if I was being honest, Paul was much more amenable to share his thoughts.

Occasionally, I peeked over at Edward, who seemed just as focused as I was. Luckily for me, the movie was interesting enough that my mind didn't wander with obvious thoughts of him, too much-except during a scene when a hunting group found one man's two daughters who'd been murdered. Edward had stiffened in his seat and kept his eyes strictly on the floor until it had faded into the next scene. He breathed in a slow breath before raising his head up, and I almost put my hand on his arm to ask him if he was okay. Of course, at the last second, I decided against it.

After that, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen. From Paul's struggle with righteousness to the play of the inmates' roles, to Mr. Jingles, to Percy, the sniveling little weasel that he was, to the mysterious, faith-healing John Coffey… My attention was sidetracked from Edward only until one part: a particular horrifying scene of an inmate's execution made my mouth drop in shock-mine and everyone else's who hadn't seen the movie before. Both of the ladies to our right covered their mouths (one even covered her eyes) and I brought my knees to my chest without thinking. I watched the scene play out with wide eyes, raising my folded hoodie over my mouth to stifle any involuntary gasps that I might let out.

At the end of the scene, I felt tears drip down my cheeks and I quickly brushed them away, not realizing that I'd been crying. That's when I felt it: Edward reached over and squeezed my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, he gave me the same look of deep passion and sorrow that he had at breakfast, the flicker of the movie's glow reflecting in his luminous eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded_. See? At least he had the balls to ask you. Why couldn't you ask him? _Because I was a recreant little girl, that was why.

"Sorry," I whispered under my breath, causing my cheeks to heat up reflexively. Not many men had seen me cry-not even Charlie, really, if the times when I was an infant were discounted.

"Don't be," he whispered back, letting his hand linger on my shoulder a little longer. My fingers itched to reach up and smooth the top of his hand, and I wondered if that's what he was waiting for. Was this a _move_, or just a gesture? Was he waiting for me to reciprocate? I bit my lip, my hand twitching, but before I could act, he pulled away and tucked his hands under his arms. I mentally kicked myself for taking too long, and then that's all I could think about for awhile: _he touched me_. He voluntarily reached out and touched _me. _I pretended that I was still stunned over the movie as I contemplated, feeling foolish. It was only his _hand_, after all.

Thankfully, the movie continued with its flip-flop of warm humor and heartrending moments, magnetizing my awareness back to the story. It even made me cry one last time before it ended, but I didn't feel as embarrassed, though. As the lights slowly came on, brightening the room, I noticed that mostly everyone was crying; it was a heavy, haunting ending. I saw Doris wiping her eyes as she went to the front to fiddle with the DVD player.

Beside me, Edward stretched his shoulders and arms. _He _wasn't crying, but he did appear worn out. I hadn't realized it when he came in from the rain, but the skin around his eyes was dark-lack of sleep, maybe?

"Tired?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. How did you like the movie?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head, making his hair stick out.

"It was pretty amazing. I can't believe I cried. Did you like it?"

He nodded slowly. People had started walking out, so we stood up, carrying our empty coffee cups that we'd sucked dry, and traipsed out into the lobby. A few people walked up the stairs, heading to their rooms and exchanging goodnights, while others separated in the direction of the sitting area and café, discussing the movie in animated voices. Edward disposed of our cups and turned back to me, stifling a yawn. _Not tired, my ass_.

"It makes you think, you know," he said, continuing the conversation.

"Yeah," I agreed thoughtfully. "It kind of makes me wonder about destiny. Like, are we actually in control of the things that happen to us, or can something life-altering step in and change the path completely, without question?"

_Whoa, Bella. Put down the philosophy book. You'll scare somebody._

He tilted his head curiously and a small spark of consideration flashed in his eyes for a brief moment. "I couldn't have said it better," he replied.

I gave him a small, sheepish smile, reveling in his agreement, regardless. Surprisingly, my pulse was still steady and my face didn't even grow warm, which was a good sign, I supposed. Maybe I was finally getting used to him. But then, he stretched his arms again and I saw the curves of his waist against his shirt, and my heart went into overdrive. I was in need of some meditation or something to help me calm the hell down. At that moment, I regretted not dating the first Tai Chi instructor Renée had set me up with-Dave something. Maybe I would have at least learned to relax my libido.

"I mean, could you imagine such a life?" he asked me, breaking my thought, pushing his ever-unruly hair off his forehead again. "Growing older, watching the people you love die … and knowing that your time is nearly everlasting?"

I pondered that thought. "I wouldn't want to be alone like that, no."

He sighed heavily. "Neither would I."

And there it was. A little chip off his brick wall. I smiled again, unable to help myself. "Are you going to bed?" I asked him as he rubbed his eyes.

"I, uh," he said, looking toward the door and then at the stairs. "I suppose I should. Are you?"

The second he asked, my stomach seemed to gurgle out loud. I'd completely forgotten about dinner, seeing as I was passed out flat on my bed during it. The buffet table had been practically cleared off by the guests sitting in the café, and I really didn't want another damn packet of crackers. I grieved a little for the Chicken Chesapeake Angela had been telling me about. Maybe I'd go out to my truck and try to find a McDonald's, or something.

"Actually, I might go out and pick up something to eat," I said. "I kind of slept through dinner."

"By yourself?" he asked.

"It's only ten-thirty," I said lightly. "I don't think the murderers come out until at least midnight."

I expected one of his barely-there smiles that made my insides turn to Jell-O, but instead, his eyes darkened and he frowned. "You shouldn't go by yourself. Would you like me to come with you?"

_Of course _I wanted him to, but I felt a little tense at his ominous expression. "No, you don't have to. I mean … did you _want _to?" I didn't see how he could; he looked as though he might not be able to stand up for much longer.

He narrowed his eyes and sighed. "I'd feel better if you weren't alone."

That wasn't a yes. No '_Sure_' or '_Yeah, I'd like the company_.' He probably didn't want to go anywhere, and why he felt some sort of bizarre obligation to not let me venture out by myself was beyond me. Was he paying me back for the coat comment earlier?

"Geez, Edward, have you been covertly communicating with my father?" I asked, beginning to climb the staircase. If I was going anywhere, I was going to need my purse. "He used to be the Chief of Police here, and he says the same thing to me almost every time I set foot out the door. But even _he _wasn't too concerned about this place. Does Forks' even have a crime record other than traffic violations?"

"You make me sound like an old man," he said, following my suit. "I'm not; I'm just cautious."

"All right," I said, starting to climb the second staircase. "I appreciate it, but it's unnecessary. I'd let you come with me, but you look like you might nod off at any moment. And I doubt that would save me from any crazy parking lot lurkers," I teased.

Again, no smile crossed his lovely face. Just a grimace. So much for the chip in his wall-he was spackling it back up as we spoke. I sighed as we climbed the stairs, becoming slower as we got further to the top floor. Each time I made the trek, I expected to get better at it-but that was definitely not the case. I felt like we were climbing the apartment building in Ghostbusters.

"You don't understand, Bella."

_Oh, here we go, again._

"Yes, you've given your opinion on what I do not understand already," I said, interrupting him. Suddenly, I was losing patience, probably because I was hungry-for food and answers. "Although, you're right-I don't understand. But you haven't said much to _help me _understand you."

"How did this become about me?" he asked, not liking the way I had turned the tables on him. "I thought this was about you going to get something to eat."

"Yeah, well, you've got me all worked up now, so I might as well just get it out," I responded, carefully not looking directly into his eyes in fear that I might lose my train of thought. "First you go and imply that I'm rash for wanting to knock on your door when I thought something was wrong, and that you would never do such a thing. Now, you don't want me going anywhere by myself even though you've been out all day-alone."

His mouth was grimly set in a firm line. "It wasn't dark out, then. And, how do you know I was alone?"

"I don't," I said honestly, huffing as I stopped on the third floor. "But you left by yourself. Anyway, that's not the point. I just don't get why you-" I wanted to tell him that I knew he'd been there for two weeks without much interest in talking to anyone, let alone _spending time _with anyone, but I didn't want him to know that I'd been asking about him. But there really didn't seem to be any way around it.

"Did you actually _want_ to sit with me at the movie tonight?" I asked, not caring that I had just blatantly changed the subject. I felt half-numb with disbelief at the my boldness. "Or were you just feeling guilty about this morning?"

He narrowed his eyes and gripped the hair on the back of his head, passing his fingers through it slowly. He looked back at me, eyes shining with earnestness. "Both."

I stared at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I don't want you to do anything because you feel like it's your chore, like I'm some pesky obligation."

"That's not what I meant at all," he said. He started up the stairs again and I followed him. "I came because I wanted to," he continued. "But also because I hoped to make it up to you. I can only imagine how odd I came across at breakfast."

"But, why me?" I asked as we slowly climbed. I figured I had gone this far; I might as well confess now. "I met Angela today. She told me that you hardly ever speak to anyone and that you keep to yourself. So … why am I different?"

"You asked about me?"

_Shit. _I looked over at him, wincing. "Just a bit. Did you honestly expect me not to be curious?"

He shrugged as we finally reached the fourth floor. "I guess I understand. I haven't exactly been forthcoming. I tend to be … a bit protective of myself. Sometimes I get protective of others, too." He sounded so sincere at that moment, and his eyes were blazing with such a sudden, intense sadness, leaving me desperate to know why.

"You don't know me," I said quietly, leaning against one of the staircase pillars, not quite wanting to leave him for the night just yet. "Why would you want to protect _me?"_

He sighed, looking heavily frustrated with himself. "I've been asking myself that since this morning," he said honestly, taking a few steps toward me; he was very close now. I could just smell a faint scent of coffee and something sweet and musky…similar to vanilla, but something organically _him, _too. It was invigorating. "I can't come up with an answer that makes sense. I feel ... drawn to you. I can't explain it."

_I could sympathize with that._

He took one step closer and we were almost touching. I could barely move.

"Try," I whispered breathily.

He paused, glancing down at the floor before raising his head, staring at me with conflicted, chimerical eyes. Just as his head tilted toward mine, his mouth parted with unspoken words, he suddenly glanced away from me, over his shoulder. Before I could follow his gaze, he snatched me around my waist and pulled me back behind the far side of the pillar, clutching me tightly to his chest. I gasped, but he threw his hand over my mouth.

"Shh," he whispered uneasily.

I could feel his heart beating through his shirt against my back. His body was so warm, and shivers vibrated through me as his hands encircled my arms, holding me snugly. I had no idea why he'd pulled me behind the pillar as though we were hiding, but I could hardly think about it. I was barely concentrating on anything else except the feel of his body against mine and how good it felt, which was immensely surprising. Men grabbing me out of nowhere was _not _something I was ever okay with. Yet, there I was, enjoying this backward embrace, wondering if Edward could feel that my temperature was on a steady climb.

But then a sharp creak and a low moan that hadn't come from either of us made me stiffen.

Someone was on our floor.

"Keep quiet," Edward whispered to me. "Don't move."

I was frozen against him, waiting to see what he was going to do. "What is it?" I asked quietly, my heart starting to pound out of fear.

The voice sounded again-this time louder, and kind of powerful.

"_Oh!"_

It was coming from the opposite end of the hallway, away from our rooms. I had no idea what was down there... Doris had said there were only two bedrooms, after all. Maybe there were storage rooms, or something of the sort. A small crash sounded, as if someone had stumbled on something, followed by multiple thumps, and both Edward and I froze. Who the _hell _was down there?

"Oh, my _God__!"_ It was a guy.

"Come on... Fuck me _harder._" And a girl.

_Oh. God._

My mouth fell open in shock as I realized we were listening to _sex._ I screwed up my face and flung my hand over my mouth to cover a snort. This had to be a joke! Who could possibly be young enough to climb all these stairs and be screwing in a hallway in the dark? Sure, I'd jokingly imagined that Edward and Doris had been at it before, but I never _actually_ believed it.

"Aw, _fuck_, Lauren!"

_Oh_. Ha!

They continued grunting and bumping, and exclaiming _things_ for a very, very long twenty-two seconds before they were finished. I pressed my face into Edward's shoulder, trying not to snort and draw attention to our hiding spot. This was possibly the most awkward, hilarious, and humiliating experience I'd ever had. It was like listening to a bad porn movie while pressed against the most attractive guy I knew, all the while trying not to think about the position we were in while people were fornicating approximately twenty feet away. Edward and I stood still as Lauren and the mystery man's footsteps sounded behind us, and I saw the backs of their heads as they started down the stairs.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," Lauren said in a snooty voice.

"Yeah, it'd be a little more fun if you weren't doing it just to keep me quiet," the guy muttered. "You'd better not tell Tyler about this."

"Right, like that idiot has any idea what's going on," she said airily.

"Or Jessica."

"I'm not stupid, you know," she said. "Listen, this is the last time. I'm done paying off my little debt to you."

"Oh, don't you pretend like you weren't loving it," said the guy as their voices faded down the steps. "You were screaming and scratching me like a fucking cat in heat."

They finally, and thankfully, were out of our hearing-range after that, and Edward let go of me slowly. We stood awkwardly, looking back and forth at the now desecrated hallway and our rooms.

"At least she didn't grab one of our room keys," I mumbled.

Edward took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath and swiftly moved towards his door. "I'm sorry I grabbed you like that."

_I'm not._

"It's okay," I said, leaning back against the pillar again. "You scared me, though. I thought you saw something that was ready to come out and attack us." He didn't answer. He was staring at the floor and making no move to either step back from or enter his room. "Edward?"

Not a sound. He was just staring. I walked over to him and touched his shoulder. He flinched, startled, as if he'd been standing alone all along.

"W-why are you so jumpy?" I asked, analyzing the look on his face. His expression was solid, as if I were staring at a frozen lock and chain, knowing that the key had just been swallowed.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing the gap between us. "Sometimes I tend to overreact."

_You can overreact with me like that any time you want_. My internal sassy voice was on hyper-drive. I inhaled slowly, trying to think of an appropriate response, but, of course, he beat me to it.

He took a deep breath and exhaled audibly, looking thoughtful. "So, did you want me to come with you?"

"Where?" I asked, trying to backtrack to the point at which we'd been interrupted. All I could remember was him coming closer to me, saying that he was _drawn to me_.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

"Oh," I said, having forgotten about it already. It was hard to think about food when pressed against someone else's warm, fit, gorgeous body. "Um … you know, I think I might just go hunt down Doris and see if I can scrounge up something leftover from dinner."

He looked at me skeptically. "Are you just saying that for my benefit?"

"No," I said honestly, unable to help adding, "But I could come and knock on your door when I'm done just to let you know that I'm still here, _Dad_."

He sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"You apologize to me a lot," I pointed out.

"I know," he replied, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I'll try not to have any more reason to do so."

So, that meant … what? He wasn't going to see me anymore? Or the opposite?

"You're probably regretting not listening, aren't you?" he asked, placing his hand on his doorknob. "About staying away from me?"

I creased my eyebrows. "No," I said quickly. "No, not at all." The hallway felt oddly large and empty then, as I stood wavering between him and the balcony. I wanted to get back to that moment when he was only inches from my face, explaining how he felt a pull towards me. I wanted to know _why_. I wanted to know what he was thinking at that very moment. I wanted to-

"You should eat," he said, interrupting my flow of thoughts.

I exhaled. "You should sleep."

"Yeah." His eyes moved from the floor to mine, swimming with oscillating emotions. They weren't tearing, they were just ... bright. Bizarrely, I wanted to reach out to touch his eyelashes to see if they were as soft as they looked. "It was nice sitting with you tonight," he said quietly.

"Yeah, you too," I said, struggling not to squeak again. "Thanks for watching the movie with me."

"Sure," he said, finally opening his door a crack. "Well, good night."

And that was that. "Good night," I replied, disappointed, and quickly spun toward the stairs. I felt an odd ache in my stomach, and it wasn't from the hunger. I'd had it before-it was the feeling I'd gotten when Renée used to drop me off for sleep-away camp-the same one that I'd gotten when we moved from Phoenix to Jacksonville. I couldn't place it at first, but then it hit me with a wave of surprise. I was _missing_ him. I was three feet away and I was missing him like we were old friends who'd just said our last goodbye, and I barely _knew _him! What the _fuck_ was wrong with me?

"Bella?" he called after me, and I halted so fast that I had to catch myself on the banister so I wouldn't tumble down the stairs. I turned around and looked at him, hoping I didn't look like the longing little freak that I was.

"Yes?"

He hesitated, looking very much like I had felt earlier that morning when I was asking him to sit with me at the movie. I raised my eyebrows, unsure if he was going to ask me something good or possibly ask me not to bother talking to him ever again. My stomach was somersaulting like a freaking gymnast.

"You want to have breakfast again? Tomorrow morning? Maybe eight?"

I tried not to groan in relief and elation. "Yeah," I replied as casually as I could. "That sounds nice."

He gave me the smallest hint of a smile, making me want to go over and pull up the corners of his mouth, just to show him that it was, in fact, possible to give me a full one. "You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" he remarked quietly.

I shook my head at him and gave a quiet scoff. "Oh, goodnight, Edward. I'll see you tomorrow."

_Oh, and please, for the love of God, get some sleep. Maybe you'll feel better about yourself._

I turned away then and carefully walked down the stairs, running my fingers along the railing. My pulse was already picking up again. So, tomorrow. Another chance to try to figure him out. I'd better make sure I got a good night's sleep, because dealing with his obscure layers was exhausting … yet, so exhilarating.

-:-

**Like? Don't like? Reviews are like being pressed against a sexy man's body. Ha! Again, you all…I'm floored by the responses I've gotten, whether in a review or a private message. I love you guys like freaking candy. :)**


	7. Green Eggs of Jealousy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Not even the book anymore, as my mother has stolen it and taken it on a cruise to the Bahamas while I'm stuck at home where it's been raining like a mo-fo. But I'm not bitter.**

**all vamped up-the food is for you, darling.**

-:-

To my surprise, I didn't dream about anything significant that night. A loud screeching noise had transmitted itself into my altered sleep state, bringing me back to consciousness in a haze. It took me a few moments to realize that it was my cell phone's alarm, screaming like a banshee. I had set it to an extra loud volume so there would be no chance of oversleeping and having an anxiety attack over lateness like the night before.

I reached over to snatch it from the night table, feeling slightly grouchy at the thought of having to get up from such a comfortable, warm place. Sleepy fog was still swimming in my head, and my eyelids felt heavy and almost sore from sleeping like a log. I breathed deeply, trying to let the faint traces of fresh laundry coax my senses to awaken, and then heard something. The faint pattering sound that Doris had described as the pipes was just audible from the next room.

Edward. In the shower.

My eyes widened at the thought and different parts of my body, one by one, flipped on like eager switches. _I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm awake, too!_

My sensory neurons were like rapid-fire as I suddenly envisioned his milky, pristine skin and marvelous body under a clear, cascading deluge: water dripping and flowing over his succulent lips and down his sculpted muscles; sweet-smelling soap and shampoo lathering through his hands, which ran through his hair and down his back, around to his torso that I longed to see with my own eyes…

I wondered if, at that very moment, he could be thinking of me while wrapped in the shower's misty steam, perhaps leaning against the tiled wall, letting his hand caress down his chest, to his stomach, to his -

Holy shit. Involuntarily, my hands had imitated my thoughts and were now lingering on the soft, silky edge of my shorts, ready to satisfy the increasingly sultry pressure only a few inches away… in a very, very sensitive area.

_Cold shower! Cold shower right now. Move!_

I wrenched myself out of bed much too fast and brought the tangled sheet that was twisted around my leg out with me for the second time. I huffed loudly as I landed hard on my knees. These dramatic exits from my bed had to stop. I was seriously going to hurt myself, and my pride. It was downright humiliating. I had been about to pleasure myself right here in Anne of Green Gable's freaking bedroom with thin walls and over Edward, who I barely knew because of his ambiguity - the only thing I could say about him for sure was that he liked coffee, was gorgeous, was protective over people he barely knew - including me - and had once fallen down the stairs completely nude. Naked. Like right now.

_Damn it, Bella - shower! Go!_

I hastily turned on the shower and stepped in, bouncing from one foot to another in the mind-numbingly cold water. After I slipped and nearly fell through the glass door, I decided to stop jumping around like a fucking bunny and turned the faucet's nozzle to a warmer temperature. Renée had given me a collection of mini shampoos and conditioners before I had left and I reached for the first little bottle I could get my hands on: Strawberry Fruition. My mind started to run away with an image of Edward and I in some lone field of strawberries and long, tickling grass, thinking that the Beatles could have written an entirely different rendition of their popular song if they'd had insight on my thoughts at the moment.

Somehow I managed to get through my shower without falling and had somewhat calmed my rebellious, erotic thoughts. I had plenty of time to agonize over clothes and after some deliberation, I chose a deep blue v-neck with long sleeves and another pair of jeans. Simple, but I hoped the hue might brighten the dull brown color of my eyes. My hair, at least, looked decidedly much better than the night before, especially without the cowlick. I winced, hoping that I hadn't looked too much like I'd just taken a roll in the hay.

It was nearing eight o'clock, so I figured I'd do my light make-up routine, walk down to the lobby, and maybe help Doris with a few odds and ends as a thank-you for feeding me the night before. She'd offered to practically make me a small Thanksgiving-like dinner, but I'd settled for making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I felt like I was a pig-tailed seven-year-old, but whatever - I had been ready to eat cardboard at that point.

I ran my hands through my hair one last time and opened my door. As I was locking it behind me, Edward's door opened and I froze. He stepped out and mirrored my position to lock his door, then noticed me, giving one of his almost-there smiles.

"Good morning," he said warmly.

I bit my thumbnail and gave him a small wave. He was practically dripping with perfection. He looked revitalized - the dark circles under his eyes had faded and his skin had an improved, brighter tone. He wore a long-sleeved, dark green shirt that made his eyes enrich with radiance; it hugged his muscles in all the right places - not too tight, but enough to nearly make me bite my nail in half. His boisterous hair… his pouting lips… his remarkable body…

_Good God_. Michelangelo would have had a fucking orgasm if he'd gotten the opportunity to carve the Statue of Edward.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, honest this time. "I almost couldn't get myself out of bed this morning." _Until I had to go ice down my girly parts so I wouldn't make Lauren-noises through the wall at the thought of your naked body in the damn shower. _"How did you sleep?"

"Through the night," he admitted, a look of combined pride and wonder crossing his face. "I usually don't get more than four hours."

I raised my eyebrows. No wonder he'd been exhibiting bags under his eyes. "I'm surprised you made it through the movie without snoring," I said.

"Coffee," he said simply. "…Though, I don't think I could have fallen asleep if I tried."

"The movie _was_ captivating," I agreed.

"Yeah," he said. "As were you."

I stared. "I - _I_ was captivating?" _Calm yourself. Probably because you were such a crybaby._

"You have lovely reactions," he admitted, and I stood at the balcony, tightly gripping the ledge, shocked that he was _voluntarily _telling me this. "You looked so authentic when you were watching… very sincere. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I mean, I _did_ watch the movie - "

Then he shook his head, perhaps mistaking my dubious stare as a sign that he'd said too much. In reality, I was thinking that he was bullshitting me. There was no way that he could have been interested in my _facial expressions _- I was boring and plain and ordinary. And _he _- well, he was just a giant prepossessing mystery, and it made no sense for him to watch _me_. I snapped out of it as he, in turn, copied my stance and gripped the railing parallel to his door. Here I was again, hearing him say something poignant and beautiful while I just stood there in shock. It was the way he _spoke _- his voice and vocabulary were unlike any other that I'd ever come into contact with. Just hearing him form a full sentence without the words 'holla' or 'a'ight' made the boys I knew back in Jacksonville seem like seventh-graders.

"You must have really been tired if you were focusing on me, huh?" I tried to joke, feeling the all-too-familiar blood rush through my cheeks.

He shook his head again, making a quiet scoffing noise. "I can't understand why you don't think higher of yourself."

_Was he joking?_

"Call the kettle black, Edward!" I uttered with a mystified look. "You're the one telling me to stay away from you like you're no good."

"I'm not," he mumbled, low enough that I probably wasn't supposed to hear, but I did.

"Why?" I asked, walking over and standing next to him. The night before, he'd seemed to lose a bit of his pretense when we had gotten close. Hell, it was worth trying. He gave me a quick glance, looked down over the balcony with a sigh, then back at me.

"I'm not very good at this," he said, running his fingertips over the banister. "Opening up. I haven't really spoken to anyone about my life. Not in awhile. Not that I'm that vain - it's not as though you'd even want to hear - "

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, either," I interrupted, feeling slightly anxious that he would change his mind and walk back into his room. "So, we don't know each other. But I don't see the harm in _trying_ to get to know you. You just…" I sighed. His idiosyncrasies had me on my knees, begging for answers.

"I've got baggage, Bella," he said softly.

_Don't we all?_ "You could tell me about it," I offered. "I know I'm a stranger and you probably don't trust me… but you did ask me to breakfast. Were you offering me a meal of silence?"

He gave me a halfhearted smirk. "Yes," he replied. "If you must know, I was a monk in the Spanish Monastery. Silence is my specialty."

"Well," I replied without missing a beat, "I was a hooker in Berlin. Maybe you can help me purify my tainted soul."

I turned and started walking down the stairs. If I was going to have to force conversation out of him, so be it. I couldn't be positive, but I thought I heard him produce a slight snorting noise, so I took that as a good sign. He was a few steps behind me as we descended the stairs, and out of nowhere, my foot caught on the carpet and I pitched forward. As I fell, I braced myself for the impact, thinking how marvelous carpet burn would look next to my bruised cut, but instead, a sharp jerk in the opposite direction somehow caused me to land on my feet. I opened my eyes to find that Edward had grabbed me around the waist, steadying me, and I was once again (for the second time in less than twelve hours) pressed against his chest. I also realized that I had reflexively grabbed his hands, and warm, electric energy seemed to emanate around us as we stood still… though, it was probably my newly-voluptuous imagination running away with me again.

"You didn't lie when you said you were clumsy," he said with a hint of amusement.

"Told you so," I grumbled, glancing back at him. "Glad I'm amusing you."

He released me and for the briefest second, I held onto his hands in reluctance. I dropped them quickly after that, wondering if he had even realized it. Before I could start blushing, I carefully continued down the stairs and reached the lobby. It was very much like the previous morning, full of chatter with a warm aroma of bread and bacon wafting through the air. We exchanged 'good mornings' and 'hellos' with others and Doris waved at us from her desk with a half-eaten bagel in her hand.

"Morning, Mr. Masen!" she called with a girlish look on her face. "Good morning, Isabella! Don't you two look adorable?"

_Ugh. One embarrassing moment at a time, please._

"Hi, Doris," we said in unison. I glanced at Edward to see if he was rolling his eyes, but his lips were curled into a curious smile. "You want to pick the table?" I asked him.

"I'll let you have the honor," he said, motioning toward the café area. There were only three tables available that I could see.

"Window?" I suggested.

"Sure."

"I'll be right there," I said. "I'm going to get some tea. Want anything?"

"No, thanks. The servers bring the coffee around in the morning," he said, brushing his hand through his thick, alluring hair. Coffee. Right.

"Okay," I said. As he walked toward the windows, I went over to the buffet table and prepared a mug of tea. I debated between choosing a banana or orange from one of the fruit baskets, and then suddenly stiffened at the scent of malodorous perfume. And a sickeningly large amount of hairspray.

"When you're finished _blocking _the table," came a familiar, snide voice from my left, "I need to refill the pitchers."

I narrowed my eyes and met Jessica's harsh glare. She was standing with a large carton of orange juice and an irritated look on her face. I moved my mug to the side and breathed slowly, deciding that, for once, I needed to stand up for myself. "Excuse me," I said quietly so only she would hear, "but _what _exactly is your problem with me?"

She sniffed lightly and started pouring juice into a pitcher. "You were in my way."

If this was about Edward, I wanted to see if she would actually put it out there.

"Before that," I said, trying to scrutinize her impending reaction. "I'd just like to know what I did to deserve your little glares of hate that you keep throwing me." Her nose wrinkled and her mouth twisted into an aggravated pucker. I was half expecting a very Jerry Springer-like reaction from her: shattering the pitcher of juice on the ground, ripping out her hair band, and attacking me with her presumably fake fingernails, screaming something like "_You with my man, ho_!"

Instead, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and scoffed. "As if I would, like, bother worrying about you. You are in _my_ territory."

Her _territory_? What did she think this was, the 1800's? That really wasn't an answer, anyway; more like self-reassurance. "So, are you talking about this lodge or who I choose to sit with?" I asked.

She didn't answer and started to pour the juice into the second pitcher. I nearly exploded in disbelief as she suddenly jerked the carton, deliberately sloshing juice in my direction, soaking my hands and contaminating my tea with pulpy, orange splashes. I stared at her in shock, feeling my face heat in anger instead of the usual embarrassment.

"Sorry, my bad," she said, smirking.

I grabbed two sets of napkin-wrapped silverware and backed away from the buffet, abandoning my tea, before I decided to fucking hit her, and _God_, did I want to. I walked back over to Edward and slumped into a chair at the table, setting his silverware in front of him. He gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head in dismissal and sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied, unwrapping my utensils and drying off my sticky hands. No use in letting her ruin my morning.

"Were they out of tea bags?"

I traced the outline of the bowl of apples on our table with my fingertip. "No," I replied, trying not to show my irritation. "I thought I'd have coffee."

"Oh, is that what Jessica recommended then?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He studied my face, then added, "What did she say?"

"Nothing nice," I said.

Edward narrowed his eyes to where Jessica might have still been standing; _I_ certainly wasn't going to look. "Not that I'm accusing you… but what happened to make her so rude to you?"

"I don't know," I said, glancing up at him. I couldn't help smiling minutely as I realized how much better he looked since the previous night; he looked healthier, and though I would have thought it impossible, his eyes were even more colorful. Sleep did his body good - a lot of good. I felt my eyes start to wander down to his neck and wondered what it would be like to slide my hand around the back of it and trace his jaw with my thumb… and maybe even get close enough to see what he smelled like today…

_Don't start. Mental cold shower. Phlegm. Centipedes. Jessica Stanley's crotch._

"I guess she talked to Lauren," I continued, shutting my eyes for a moment to refocus my attention. "She seemed pretty mad at me."

He picked up his silverware and rolled it between his fingers. "I don't understand."

_Honestly!_

"Edward, really, you can't be _that_ blind," I said. Even if Jessica and Lauren were acting like high-school drama queens, they were playing a round of monkey-in-the-middle with him. He _had_ to know. "Jessica's pissed at me because she thinks I'm … taking over her territory."

"Her territory?"

"Her words, not mine," I said. "She means you."

Edward straightened, creasing his eyebrows. "Me?"

I almost laughed. "You have got to be joking. You didn't notice how she _fawned_ all over you yesterday?" I liked Angela's way of putting it.

He sighed. "I won't deny that I've noticed her … _advances_. But I've never returned them. I don't see how that would make her angry with you."

He'd obviously never seen Days of Our Lives.

"Because I'm sitting here where she wants to be," I explained. "You're paying attention to _me_. She thinks you … _like me_."

As I scoffed out the last two words, he gave me a peculiar look and I quickly looked down at the table. _Great, Bella. Just put it out there._

Suddenly, I felt a creeping blanket of discomfort wash over me. I was talking to him as though it were inconceivable, but secretly wanting it to be true… and I hardly knew him. And I was lying to myself if I thought that just because he was some beautiful stranger, it was okay for me to have freedom with my feelings. I wasn't ready for that and I knew better; just because I wasn't under my own roof didn't mean I should be allowed to break my own rules. Then again, I hadn't really been thinking about what had happened back in Florida - not yet, anyway. I'd been so determined to pretend that it never happened and I had been successful up until now. Edward distracted me, yes, but the emotion that was radiating off of him was enough to stir up my memories.

_Stop it. The breakfast table is not the place to think about the ghost of freaking Christmas past. They are for eating. Not anything else. Except maybe trying out a fun sexual position._

And now I was channeling Sybil. God help me.

I peeked up at his eyes. The way he was looking at me made my adrenaline skyrocket. I knew what would happen next, so I leaned my face on my fist and turned toward the window, hoping to hide any sight of the swirling, glowing blood under my cheeks.

"Bella," he said, leaning across the table a bit, his voice falling to a deep, mellow tone that made my whole body feel warm. "I know you think I'm the one who's being obscure, but you make me curious. You speak as though you don't deserve respect. Why?"

Where did his damned magical intuition come from? Fuck my readable face.

"I know," he continued, looking slightly culpable for some reason. "I'm a hypocrite. I ask and I don't offer up in return… but I just want to understand. You did say that was okay, didn't you? Getting to know each other?"

I felt my palms sweating again as I nervously fiddled with my napkin. "It - it does work both ways you know…"

He nodded honestly. "I know."

I narrowed my eyes. Where to start? "Well," I said, not really wanting to get into everything so soon, especially not in a room full of people. "I guess I'm - "

"Good morning, again!" I jumped as Doris appeared out of nowhere, holding a tray full of mugs and a pot of coffee. "How are you two this morning?"

I took a slow breath as I looked up at her, torn between feeling frustrated and being incredibly grateful for the interruption. Edward's expression was still concerned, but he gave Doris a polite nod. "Fine, thank you," he said. "How about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm rather well, dear," she said, eyeing Edward questioningly as she got a good look at him. "Mr. Masen, not to put you on the spot, but you look simply flourishing this morning. I'm certainly glad that you've perked up a bit!"

My eyes widened in amusement, now that the attention was turned away from me. Edward looked positively embarrassed, but he had good control of his blood vessels, apparently, because his cheeks stayed the same color. _Damn it_. I would have been masochistically pleased to see _him_ flush red, for once.

"Well, whatever you've done to him, Isabella, keep it up," Doris said, giving me a wink.

I laughed nervously, pretending she didn't just say that. "Doris, you can call me Bella, remember?"

"Oh, right, dear," she said, holding out the tray of mugs. "Would you both like some coffee?"

"Yes," we both said, sounding a little too eager. "Please," Edward added.

She poured us both a steaming stream of coffee and looked around the room. "We're a little short-staffed today, so if you'd like, I can put your order in to the kitchen. Tom's making oregano-cheddar omelets as his specialty this morning. It comes with bacon and a freshly-baked blueberry muffin. Can I interest you in some?"

I was practically bouncing in my seat as my attention turned to food. Thank _God._ "Thanks, Doris, that sounds good," I answered instantly, not caring if it made me sound ravenous. I was. I hadn't had protein since a fast-food chicken sandwich on my drive up, and whether or not it had been made with real chicken was debatable.

Doris looked at Edward, who nodded. "Sure, thank you," he said quietly.

She squeezed his shoulder gently. "Honestly, Mr. Masen, I haven't seen you look this refreshed since - well, I couldn't be sure. It's good to see you like this instead of so tired. I'd been worrying that there was a draft in your room or something of the sort. Interrupted sleep is not something I'd like my guests to have in this lodge! You would tell me if something was keeping you awake, wouldn't you? Isabella was just telling me about a noise she'd heard the other night - banging or thumping sounds." Doris turned her eyes to me. "You haven't heard it anymore, have you, dear?"

I shook my head quickly. "Oh - no. No, I haven't." I glanced back at Edward, who looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.

"Oh, good," said Doris, chuckling. "I had been worrying about it. No ghosts, then, I suppose. Think of the stories we'd have to tell the tourists if there had been!" I smiled in spite of myself; Doris was like a joyous bubble of pep. It was hard not to be entertained when she was around. "Anyway, dears, I'll go put that order in. Someone will bring it to you shortly, if not myself," Doris said, looking around the café. "Jessica's on duty, but Lauren's nowhere to be found, again. I lost track of her last night when the movie started. I only hope she got around to shining up the door knobs and knockers like I asked her to."

Edward raised his mug to his lips to hide his face and as I chuckled and under my breath, I said, "Oh, she was knocking a knob, all right."

"I didn't hear you, dear, what was that?" Doris asked innocently.

I quickly covered my mouth and Edward choked on his coffee, holding a napkin to his mouth as he started coughing. Doris went all motherly, rubbing his back as I sat, failing to hold back a slew of giggles, half stunned at the fact that I had let that slip out of my mouth.

"Goodness," said Doris, looking at Edward and then at me. "Have I missed something?"

I struggled to get myself under control and, thankfully, a crash sounded from the kitchen. Most of the guests turned to look and Doris sighed. "Never a dull moment, even in Forks," she muttered before looking back at Edward. "Are you all right, dear?"

He nodded silently, his fist over his mouth.

"Good, darling, good. Your food will be out soon," said Doris, and she started hurrying toward the kitchen.

Edward raised his eyes to mine and I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping my lips. "Sorry," I told him, although I was still smiling.

He cleared his throat and took a small sip of coffee. "I almost wish she would have heard you. I would have paid to see the look on her face if she would have understood that."

"Something tells me Doris isn't all that innocent," I said, thinking of her wink and all the grinning she had done when seeing me and him, together. Though, I did doubt that she would appreciate her employees screwing on her beloved fourth floor hallway.

We were silent for awhile, just drinking our coffee. I'd stirred cream and sugar into mine; Edward kept his black.

"It seems nice today," Edward finally remarked. "No rain."

He was talking about the weather. How _Sense and Sensibility _of him. I looked out the window. It was hard to tell if the sun was out with all the trees around, but it seemed rather bright and much clearer than the past two days.

"I'm kind of glad," I said. "I've been wanting to take a drive or something. Maybe visit Port Angeles; Doris told me there are a few places to shop there. Not that I'd mind seeing some of the town, either. Have you been?"

"A few times," he said. "It's nice. I haven't done a lot of shopping; I just walk around, mostly."

_Ask him if he wants to go. Or wait a moment; maybe he'll ask you. Or just ask him. Damn it._

Before I could think about it, repetitious clicks sounded from a distance, growing closer. High heels. _Oh, God grant me strength not to vomit_.

Jessica was walking toward us with plates. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Charlie's voice rang through my head: _Keep your head up. Look them in the eyes. Don't forget how smart you are, and that I taught you how to use a gun._ Of course, that was when I was being bullied in fifth grade. Charlie had come down for a visit and let me shoot his Glock .40 at a shooting range. Renée had gone postal.

"Hey, you," Jessica said with a grin, fully focused on Edward before giving me a quick glance. "Hi, Bella." Her voice was like saccharin. Inwardly, I wanted to gag, but I decided to be the bigger person and smiled - what I could manage of a smile, anyway. She set our plates down and leaned her hand on the back of Edward's chair. "So, Edward, how was the movie? Lauren said she saw you there."

_And so it begins_.

"It was very nice, thank you," he said. "How was Olympia?"

She flipped her hair, looking thrilled that he had asked her a question. "It was totally fun, you should have come! Lauren got stuck here, so I ended up with stupid, whiny Tyler all night, but we all got free beer from some frat house. I think we're all going to go to the beach later tonight for a bonfire. Want to come? I could totally drive you there and back. Or you could, like, stay at my place - some of the other guys are, too."

_Christ. _I absently stared out the window, not wanting to lose my appetite from watching her cleavage bounce around.

"Sorry," said Edward, "that's nice of you, but I have plans tonight."

"Oh, really?" asked Jessica, her voice turning slightly cool. "What are you doing?"

I couldn't help but sneak a peek at him. _Yeah, what _are _you doing?_

"I promised Doris I would play tonight," he said with a polite smile. "I don't like to break promises."

"Oh, the piano!" she said, giggling. "How about that lesson you promised me, then? No broken promises, right?"

I watched them, trying to keep a disgusted look from taking over my face. _Breathe, Bella. Don't be like her and get jealous. He's not yours, after all. He can do whatever he wants. Even if it includes teaching a skankwhore piano scales._

He opened his mouth, seeming confused, then gave me an intent stare. I gave him a strange look back, wondering why he would look at me, as though asking my permission. He cleared his throat, then finally looked back at Jessica. "Maybe if I have the time," he said flatly.

Jessica gave me a pointed look. "That'd be _great_."

"Jessica!" It was Doris, calling out from the kitchen. God bless that woman. Jessica scowled and turned back to Edward, and her mouth transformed into a warm, flirtatious smile. "I guess I'll see you later, handsome."

I snorted and bit my thumbnail, trying to hide my expression. Jessica threw me an impertinent glare. "Enjoy your breakfast, _Bella_."

I sighed and forced out a polite, "Thank you." She smiled then, looking way too proud, and turned to walk away. What a callous bitch. Looking back at Edward, I asked, "Why were you staring at me, like you needed my permission or something to give her a lesson?"

"Permission?" he repeated. "Good God, Bella, I was waiting for you to _help_ me. I don't want to teach her anything. Right then would have been a great moment for you to be clumsy - spill your coffee, or flip your plate off the table - anything but make me _answer _her."

I stared at him and slowly smiled. "Well, you could have spilled your coffee, too, you know. Or choked on it again. I can't read minds like you can."

"I can't read minds," he said, smoothing his hair. "I wish."

_Well, you seem to be doing an incredible job reading mine._

"You're on your own with her," I said. "I'm no help. Maybe you can conveniently come down with carpal tunnel."

"I guess," he said, glumly picking up his silverware. I chuckled and turned my attention to my breakfast. _Finally_. I was going to have to try to restrain myself from inhaling it. I looked down at my plate and, after a moment, my mouth opened in an incredulous part.

_Oh. Fuck. No._

There it was, almost discreetly hidden, but just enough in plain sight to get the message across. Right there, by a finely cut orange slice, on top of my oregano-seasoned eggs, was translucent, bubbly, runny _saliva. _I had thought it, certainly, but I'd never expected that she would actually _do _it. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I nearly drew blood as I watched Jessica saunter toward the kitchen, her hips doing their little slutty sway.

Before I could blink, I stood up, snatched an apple out of the bowl on the table, and took aim. The apple flew from my hand like a bullet and hit her squarely in the back of her thin little neck. She stumbled in surprise and turned around so fast that she fell back onto the buffet table and took out two fruit baskets. It was like a dream in slow-motion, watching her tumble to the ground, bananas and oranges bouncing around her like little springy cartoons, singing, "_Ha _ha_ ha _ha_ ha _ha_ haaa_…" She sat there in shock, looking as though she was going to erupt in tears at any moment.

Everyone around us went from stunned silence to roaring laughter. Mr. Miller let out a snort that would have pleased any member of a wild pig family. Doris cackled and threw Jessica her pink slip. And then -

"Bella?"

Instantly, my little fantasy illusion disappeared as Edward called my name. Still sitting in my seat, I snapped out of it just in time to watch Jessica's little pompous ass, that was unfortunately not planted on the floor like in my daydream, swagger towards the kitchen. She turned back around and smirked one last time - her last little '_fuck you'_ to me - and then disappeared behind the door.

"Bella?" Edward said again, sounding concerned. "Are you all right?"

I gripped my fork with a clutched, angry fist and gritted my teeth. "_She _- _spit _- _in _- _my _- _food_."

Edward's perfect green eyes widened comically and he gave me a look that included both disbelief and amusement. "No."

"_Yes_," I hissed.

He leaned over the table to peer at my plate, staring at it for a moment, and then looked back at me. He was _smiling_. Last night in the hallway and all this morning, he nearly blew a fucking blood vessel trying to smile, but when _Jessica Stanley _defiled my breakfast, he grinned like the goddamned Cheshire cat.

"_What_ is funny?" I demanded, seething.

To add on to my shock, he started _laughing_. It was like brilliant, sexy music to my ears, but I was too pissed to fully enjoy it. "Bella," he gasped in between his little fit of hilarity, "your face is priceless." I sat there as he giggled like a little girl, and I fought the urge to chuck an apple at him instead. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat as he got himself under control. "Don't get upset. She's really not worth it."

"Oh, and I suppose you want me to _eat_ it just to spite her?" I asked, my mouth forming a slight pout.

"Of course not, that's disgusting," he said, reaching for a napkin and placing it over my poor eggs, like a mortician would do to a cadaver. "It's a shame to waste food and all…but I'm suddenly not hungry for this either."

"No, don't - " I started to argue. There was no use in him giving up a meal because Jessica's venom was now swimming in mine.

"Bella," Edward said again, his harmonious voice snapping me out of my resistance. "Fuck her. We're going out for breakfast."

I stared for a long moment, feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight. "We are?"

"Yes," he said, standing up and offering me his hand. "That is, if you'd like to."

After a beat, I accepted his hand, and the familiar tingles of warm energy flowed from his hand into mine as he curled his fingers around my small ones."O-okay," I said, still torn between being angry and being excited that he was taking me somewhere. We walked out of the breakfast area and Edward released me, putting his hands on my shoulders and stopping me from going out the door.

"Just one moment," he said. I would have waited for eternity, but whatever. He walked to the desk and exchanged a quick conversation with Doris. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but Doris's eyes lit up and he had her emitting her million-dollar smile within a few seconds. She nodded at him, giving his cheek a grandmotherly pinch, and I couldn't help but giggle at the sight, letting the last little bit of anger drain out of me.

"Ready?" he asked as he walked back over to me.

I nodded. We made our way outside and he gestured towards a group of cars. "I'll drive us, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, sure," I said. I was curious to see which car was his, anyway. Besides, I wasn't sure if he was ready to be introduced to my truck.

He led me over to none other than the same shiny, silver car that I'd parked next to the first day I arrived. He was the Volvo owner. I chuckled.

"What?" he asked. "Don't they drive these in Jacksonville?"

"Never mind," I said, smiling. I started to walk to the passenger side, but he beat me there and held the door open. "Thanks," I said shyly. No man had ever opened a car door for me - except Charlie, and that was back when I was still in a booster seat. I didn't even know guys did that anymore.

He got in the driver's side and I took in how clean and glossy, and high-tech, and just plain _superior _everything was. I thought of the dry-heaves he might have when he saw the state of my truck. "So, where are we going?"

"Port Angeles," Edward replied, starting his car. It barely hummed, and I smirked to myself. "You said you wanted to visit. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," I said, as he started backing out of the parking space. It would be nice to pick up some books or a postcard to send to Charlie, Renée, and some of my friends… I wished I had brought my wallet. _Crap, my purse!_ "Wait!" I cried.

He jerked to a stop and stared at me. "What?" he said, checking his mirrors for something he was about to hit.

"I forgot my purse," I said dumbly. What a prissy _girl_ thing to say. I wouldn't be surprised if sooner or later, I was going to end up in a dress and start saying "like" as much as Jessica.

"Oh, do you need something in it?" he asked, eyebrows creased.

"Um, money?" I said, giving him a strange look. Hello? I wasn't Lauren, who apparently paid people with quickies.

"Oh, Bella," Edward said, as if I were being silly, and he continued to drive. "I asked _you _to go out. I don't expect you to pay. Now, if you would have said you needed your lip balm - "

"I do," I said quickly. "Let me out."

"We'll just get you some at the store," he said. He was grinning. Damn that intoxicating smile. "You might as well sit back and enjoy the scenery."

I sighed. "Fine. But I'm taking you out, next time."

"Sure," he said, chuckling.

As we drove out of the parking lot, I saw Jessica Stanley leaning against the side of the lodge, cell phone pressed to her ear, as usual. When she noticed us, her mouth fell open and stared at me with a look of raging jealousy. And _I_ smirked like a middle school kid who just got picked first for a dodge ball team.

Edward chose _me_. Take that, Tits McGee.

-:-

**My apologies to Michelangelo. I'm sure he wouldn't have had such a...reaction. I might have, though.**

**Thanks, everyone!**


	8. Double Vision

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Unless I spell it like this: Twi1ight. See what I did there? As far as I know, no one has dibs on that. Mine? I'll cross my fingers.**

**You glorious people and your reviews and PMs. They had me cracking up and getting delighted with the positive responses. Thank you so much, honestly. I'm blown away. And for those who gave me constructive criticism, thank you for that as well. It helps me to be a better writer, and I know I have a lot to learn!**

**So…that's all. Enjoy! And sorry for my rambling. :-P**

-:-

It was warm for October, so Edward and I cracked our windows and enjoyed the breeze that wafted through the car. I had to give it to Forks; the air was like breathing in purity. Renée and I, and now Charlie, of course, had residences in the heart of the city. There in Jacksonville, if I rolled down my truck's window, I mostly smelled car exhaust and the occasional fried grease that permeated from the local fast food spots. Though, I could see why my beach-happy mother had originally gone stir-crazy.

It was greener than a leprechaun's tit.

Trees, moss, bushes, grass, and other copious amounts of plant life covered the sides of the streets like it had been painted. It was vividly appealing, though; I couldn't deny that. It _was_ the color of Edward's eyes, after all.

"Do you have any music preferences?" he asked as we finally came upon civilization. A few houses and local businesses began to pop out of the leafy backdrop sporadically, and I tried to remember what street Charlie used to live on.

"Oh, I'll listen to anything," I said, peering out the window. "You can put on what you normally do."

He chuckled under his breath. "Okay, but you might jump out of the car."

I turned toward him and raised my eyebrows. I watched his hand as he turned on his CD player and waited for deafening screaming vocals to shatter my eardrums, but was surprised when refined, melodious piano notes sounded.

"You thought _this_ would make me jump?" I asked, smirking. "Yeah, Edward, really scary."

He smiled, and I shifted in my seat as that familiar warmth pulsed in between my legs. I wondered how long it would take to get to Port Angeles; being in such close proximity to him in a confined space was going to prove difficult to keep my naughty side calm. Who knew I had such a lustful hot pocket?

"Not many people I know have a taste for classical," he said. "I have an excess." He gestured to the back seat of his car. I turned and saw a few binders and bags practically overflowing with CD cases.

"Wow," I said, amazed at the amount of music covering his seats. I didn't think I even owned half of what was visible.

He shrugged. "There's more in my trunk. I acquired a lot of it last year."

A small book of CDs was lodged under his arm rest and I traced the top of it with my fingers. "Do you mind if I look?" I asked.

"No, not at all," he answered, concentrating on the road.

I picked up the booklet and leaved through the pages. Mozart. Stravinsky. Chopin. Mozart. Beethoven. Mozart. Mozart. More Mozart.

"Is Mozart your favorite?" I asked. _How obvious, jackass_.

"It's evident enough, isn't it?" he said with a small smile. "It's true, I have an affinity for him. My dad tried to get me into his music when I was too young to appreciate it. I was a teenager before I understood how brilliant he was."

"Oh." _Oh? That's all you can say? _I mentally kicked myself for ever quitting the piano. If I hadn't, I might have been able to make an intelligent comment instead of opening and closing my mouth like a damn fish. I flipped through a few more pages, passing Tchaikovsky, more Beethoven, and then stopped when I came upon a Linkin Park CD that was amid the classical geniuses.

I grinned and peeked over at him, imagining him air-drumming to the bass in his little shiny, silver car. _Sophisticated little closet rocker._

"So, who's this playing?" I asked, dipping my hand out the window and swaying it in the breeze. "I don't recognize the music."

"Ludovico Einaudi," he replied, sweeping his windblown hair out of his eyes. "He's modern--not exactly the first name you might think of in terms of classical. He's a bit of a minimalist, but I like his style."

"It's very calming," I observed and he nodded in agreement. "What's the name of this one?"

"Primavera," he answered.

"Like pasta?" I asked, and immediately cringed. I sounded like such a glutton. _But, damn, I was hungry._

He laughed. "Not exactly. It's Italian for 'spring,' I believe."

We listened to the rest of the song in silence and reflected on the evocative notes, sharing subtle glances every now and then. I wondered if he would bring up what we were about to discuss at breakfast. The more I thought about it, the more I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about it just yet. Why start a friendship with such serious material?

Luckily, he was having another one of his mind-reading moments and didn't ask. We drove further and further out of the little town until we were riding on Highway 101; Edward wasn't exactly an obey-the-speed-limit sort, but I didn't complain.

"So, why does Doris call you Mr. Masen?" I asked out of curiosity as we drove along the water. "Wouldn't you rather be called Edward?"

"I've told her several times that she could, but she didn't take to it," he said, giving me a hint of a smile. "I suppose she appreciates formality, _Isabella_."

His eyes lit up as my full first name rolled neatly off his tongue. I was thankful for the wind at my face; it kept the blush-monster at bay.

"I think it's just so it makes you sound closer to her age," I said, cracking a smile.

He snorted. "Women." He took a deep breath, which was something I noticed he did frequently, and he gave me a glance. "So, how long are you planning to stay? At the lodge, that is?"

I shrugged. "Charlie sent Doris a check for a month's stay. I suppose they estimated that's how long it would take me before I caved and came running back to the beach."

"Do you mean your parents?" he asked.

"Yeah, Charlie's my dad," I answered. "He lived here his whole life and was excited about me checking out the town, so he was more than generous. He only moved to Florida around June."

He creased his eyebrows. "So…if he's lived here and you've been in Jacksonville…"

"Oh," I said, realizing how confusing that sounded. "My parents got divorced when I was a baby and my mom took me to Phoenix. She remarried this guy Phil and we didn't move to Jacksonville until I was seventeen. Then she just got divorced a year ago after…"

_No_, I decided. _Not yet_.

"Well, they had their reasons," I finished. "She and Charlie got back together last Christmas."

_Sounds like a fucking soap opera._

"So…why did you come here?" he asked. "I mean, if your family is in Florida, as are your friends, I'm presuming…what made you come out here?"

It was my turn to take a deep breath. "I…I guess for a couple of reasons."

He waited patiently and kept his eyes on the road, except to give me a reassuring glance that he was listening.

"Charlie and Renée--that's my mom--are living together," I said, playing with a lock of my hair. "I had an apartment with a friend and then she got engaged and moved in with her boyfriend. And because the rent was absurd to pay all by myself and because everyone I know has someone--roommate, fiancé, live-in partner, what have you--I was kind of narrowed down to two choices: either move in with my parents for awhile or find somewhere else to live."

He nodded and gave me a quick look with his brilliant eyes. "I guess this is just a temporary fix…just taking a break and trying to figure out what I want," I added.

We were silent for a few moments. I twirled more strands of hair around my fingers, wondering what was going on in his head. He probably was thinking that my behavior was impulsive and childish--leaving just because I was without a significant other. And that wasn't all…but again, I wasn't sure if I was ready to be fully honest just yet.

"You said a couple of reasons," he remarked.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I didn't want to…take their happiness away again. Renée's and Charlie's, I mean. I already did it once, back when I was little. They were young parents and couldn't cope very well…especially Renée. So, I didn't want to impose myself back on them when they were getting their second chance."

_There. I said it…some of it._

Edward looked at me for longer than he probably should have, seeing as we were in traffic. "Bella…" he started.

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "I was a baby…I didn't do anything wrong. Trust me, I've heard it."

"But you don't believe it," he stated, still staring.

"I do and I don't," I said, drinking up the emotion that was pouring out of his eyes. "If it wasn't for me, they might have made it."

_If it wasn't for me, Renée and Phil might have made it, too._

I winced at the thought and turned to stare out the window before Edward could decipher my expression. I heard him take a quick breath, as though to say something, but he remained quiet. I kept my eyes on the passing cars and sparkling water (the sun had finally decided to grace us with its presence) and we remained mostly silent for the rest of the drive. When we finally got to Port Angeles, I reluctantly ended up having to hand it to Edward's car; there was no way my truck could have made the trip so fast. It would have probably needed an oil change and two tire rotations after taking on that kind of speed.

The town looked almost similar to the Riverfront Boardwalk back home. It was definitely smaller, but little shops and restaurants speckled the streets and off in the distance, I could see water and boater's docks. Edward parked along a side street and I opened my door to step out; it felt strange not having to jump down out of the car for once. He fed some quarters into a meter and then looked at me expectantly.

"So…you're in the mood for _pasta_, are you?" he asked, giving me a grin.

I grimaced, but forced a laugh. He _did_ think I was a little fat girl on the inside. "It's only quarter of ten," I said, catching the time on a street clock. Though, if someone had handed me a pan of lasagna, I would have taken it, ran to a private location, and devoured half the pan all by myself.

"I guess that'll have to wait until dinner then," he replied. "Breakfast will have to do for now."

"Dinner?" I repeated. "Oh, no. You're not taking me out for _two _meals."

"You're right," he said, starting to walk towards the shops. "Counting lunch, that's three."

I sighed, trying not to scowl as I watched him walk ahead of me. Damn him and his chivalry…and his tight, sexy ass that looked good enough to bite in those jeans.

-:-

After we had a quick breakfast of buttery, flaky croissant breakfast sandwiches--which I somehow managed to eat at a normal human pace--we walked along the streets and poked around in random stores. Edward saw me eyeing the postcards in a bookstore, and told me to pick as many as I wanted--his treat. I stubbornly said no, of course.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to choose them for you," he'd said airily. "It's a shame, because I'm not sure of how many or which ones you like…I could buy the rack, you know."

I sighed and plucked out three basic, emblematic "Washington" cards. Simple enough. "The rack," I repeated, scoffing. "Where do you come from anyway, Wall Street?"

He gave me a small smile. "Chicago, actually."

Chicago? Forget me. What was _he_ doing in Forks?

"Okay, are you a co-owner of the Chicago Tribune, then? Or have stock in it?" I asked, eyeing him as he took out his wallet.

"Hardly," he answered, handing the cashier a bill. "I don't have a job at the moment."

"Thank you," I mumbled as I took the small bag, postcards in tow, from him.

We walked out of the store and began walking along the street that led to the water. The air was scented with a mixture of clear airiness, salt, and just a hint of boat fuel. It was actually kind of inviting. I definitely was my father's child.

"So, what did you do before you came here, then?" I asked, tucking my hair behind my ears as the wind blew.

"I worked for a law firm," he said. "I only worked there because my father got me into it; he was a lawyer. I never loved it like he did…after four years of college, going to law school and studying to take the bar exam wasn't exactly my idea of fulfilling my purpose."

Law school. It explained his impeccable vocabulary, anyway. "So…you quit?" I asked.

His eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at the sky for a brief moment. "Not exactly. I started looking into joining the Army; it was something I'd always wanted to do. And my father…had a strong opposition to that. He wasn't excited about the idea of throwing away six years of school and my _mother_…well, she didn't want me going anywhere near guns or bombs or anything that could involve shrapnel somehow impaling me."

I felt my own stomach twist at the thought of him in a different country, in the midst of gunfire and blood and explosions. I didn't blame her.

"Obviously, I never joined," he said, sounding wistful. "I was about to, despite my dad's wishes, but then…"

I walked along slowly, waiting for him to finish. "Then?" I questioned, watching as he frowned and looked away so I couldn't see his eyes. I reached out, surprising myself, and took his arm. We stopped walking and he looked at me, fresh agony evident on his face. I stared in surprise as he fought to control his emotions…his breathtaking eyes were practically bleeding vulnerability. "Then what?" I asked softly, squeezing his arm gently.

He shook his head. "I could use some coffee…how about you?"

_Damn it! _I inwardly screamed. I wanted to reach down his throat and pull out the answers. It was so increasingly frustrating. "I told you about my parents in the car," I voiced. "I thought you said you knew that this whole conversation thing worked both ways."

He inhaled and exhaled audibly, running his hand through his hair and keeping it entangled in the bronze mass. "It does. But this isn't a _contest_, Bella."

I breathed aloud, too, and gave him an exasperated look. My cheeks warmed with fresh blood and I put my hand up to my face to shield myself. "Fine," I muttered, walking past him. "Let's go get _coffee_. That will make everything much more comprehensible."

"Please, Bella, don't," he called after me, the despondency in his voice slowing my footsteps until I came to a gradual stop.

I turned around and kept my eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at him, knowing he would undeniably turn me to Jell-o.

"Please don't be angry with me," he continued, taking a few steps toward me. I slowly brought my eyes up from the ground and peeked at him through my blowing hair. He stopped walking for a moment and stared at me in a kind of…awe. I hoped a fucking seagull hadn't crapped in my hair or something. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, only looking back at him when I felt nothing out of the ordinary.

He took a short breath and closed the gap between us. "I…I haven't told anyone as much as I just told you since I left Chicago. And it's--_difficult_ for me to talk about. Please…be patient with me?"

My knees nearly buckled as he reached over to tuck a strand of my windblown hair behind my ear. He was pleading, unfathomable, beautiful…I almost swayed on my feet. I suddenly felt so horribly, irrationally selfish. I hadn't even given him the whole truth in the car, and here he was, giving me no less than I had…he was giving more, even.

I nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," I apologized as my face flushed a deeper shade of pink. "I just…I hate seeing you look so upset. I have this strange urge to want to protect you, too."

_Oh, yeah, and let you have your way with me on this very pier._

His eyes lost a bit of their anguish and he rubbed my arm, sending a warm wash of blood elsewhere. There went those tingles…it was electrically blissful. "Well, I guess that makes two of us, now."

I gave him a small smile. "So, coffee?" I said, repeating his suggestion. "I need an encore of that Chai tea latte. I promise, we'll talk weather, sports, and nothing else."

I silently celebrated as he returned my smile. As long as I didn't have to see his face twisted in pain anymore that day, I was satisfied with whatever he wanted to talk about. Even if it involved his ex-girlfriends.

Well, not really. But I'd take what I could get.

-:-

After spending an hour talking in a rather modern café, we continued walking along the streets and perusing different stores. We even walked down to a small patch of beach, where we took off our shoes and stuck our feet in the water. It was preposterously freezing and I screamed like a little girl as a puny wave washed over my feet, earning a quiet laugh from Edward. Time passed quickly; between conversation (that was not gravely serious in any way) and shopping and even just watching the boats sail back and forth, we had skipped lunch and dinnertime had approached.

We had steak (in lieu of pasta), potatoes, fresh broccoli, and chocolate mousse in a boisterous restaurant that played alternative rock music, and it was so fucking delectable that I had to contain myself from moaning like that chick from When Harry Met Sally. I mentally racked up the amount that he had spent on me that day and decided that I _would_ be paying him back, no matter how many times he would refuse. Maybe I'd give him something else besides just the money…I'd have to think of something good. Of course, fantasies of me massaging his immaculate, naked body came into my mind and I had to take two mental cold showers before I could look at him without stuttering over my words.

It was nearing six o'clock as the sun started to set, and the clouds also grew denser; it was apparent that the rain was on its way to pour upon us. I shivered as we walked down the street, a few blocks away from the car.

"Are you cold?" he asked, glancing at me as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"A little," I answered honestly, missing my hoodie, which was folded on my dresser back at the lodge.

He slid his arm around my shoulders and an instant jolt of heat and euphoria spread through me and I shivered again, only not from the cold this time. He pulled me closer to him. "Is this okay?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in--permission? He had to be joking.

"Y-yeah, of course," I answered in admiration while relishing in his touch. Of all the times I'd had mental images of touching his marvelous, muscular body all over, including the unmentionable places, he was _asking_ if he could touch me? I felt like such a little hussy. "Thank you," I added sincerely, putting my arm around his waist so I wasn't walking like a robot. Just getting to touch him back was enough to give me the belief that I could _fly_ the rest of the way home. It was getting more and more difficult to keep myself in check.

As we walked, the rain finally broke through the clouds and started coming down in thick spurts. Edward stopped walking and pulled us back underneath an awning of a restaurant for cover.

"Well, I guess we could make a run for it," I said, looking up at the sky.

"You won't," he replied. "I will. You'll get soaked."

"So will you," I said pointedly. "We came here together, and we'll both get wet. That's the deal, you know."

"Oh, nice try, but I never made such a deal," he said, grinning and giving me a small push towards the door of the restaurant. "Wait inside. I'll pull up and come in to get you in a few minutes."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned in and stopped my breath instantly with his proximity. "Please, for me?" he asked, eyes glistening.

_Well, fuck_. My mind started spurting random thoughts about green eyes and coffee beans and our feet in the Washington water and licking chocolate mousse off of Edward's stomach.

"_Damn_ it," I said out loud and mentally kicked myself. _Control, Bella. It's called control_. "I--I mean, okay. Okay."

He smirked in amusement and tucked another stray strand of hair behind my ear, making me go all warm again. He opened the door of the restaurant for me, and I stood in the doorway as he jogged out into the rain and I watched him disappear.

_Run, sexy-pants, run._

I sat on a bench inside the restaurant by an unoccupied hostess booth. A blackboard had the words "Please seat yourself" scrawled across it in yellow chalk. I sighed and sat for a minute, then stood up again, restless. I opened the front door to peek out; there was no use in him coming in to get me when I could just run out to the car door. I stepped back outside to look further down the street; the rain was coming down in bucketfuls. I winced, thinking that Edward was going to be dripping wet. Not that I really minded the mental image, but it was flu season, after all.

As I turned to go back inside, the door opened before I could reach for the handle. I stepped back in surprise as three men staggered out onto the pavement, completely wasted. Happy-hour victims, I guessed. Two of the men were wearing dirty pairs of overalls and the biggest was wearing a ball cap over his messy hair; possibly a mullet.

"Well, hello there," Overalls 1 said, giving me a big, sloppy grin.

I stepped to the side, out of their way. "Hi," I said softly, averting my eyes from the biggest man. He reminded me too much of…_him_.

"What are you doing out here by yourself, darlin'?" slurred Overalls 2. "Lose your _boy_friend?"

"No," I replied automatically, while my internal voice started shouting at me to run. "He's getting the car."

"Aw, hear that, Danny?" Overalls 1 said, slapping Hat Man on the chest. "She's taken."

I stepped to the side even further, hoping they would just continue walking, but they didn't. "Excuse me," I finally said, trying to slide my way behind one of them. "I'm just going back inside."

"No, no, no, nooo," said Overalls 2, reaching out and grabbing my arm.

I stopped and flinched as a memory, clear as day, jolted through my mind. _**His**__ hands on my arms, locking their hold on my wrists._

"Don't leave, sweetie, what'chur name?"

I felt another hand graze my shoulder and slide up my neck and again, the images came in waves.

_**His**__ hand on my back, squeezing me--pulling me closer as I resisted, trying to squirm my way out of his sweaty grasp. He was strong though…pitching had given him a great upper body strength. I cried out, but he gripped my head with his oversized hands._

"_Shh, Bella," he had said, garbling a few more words before licking my cheek with his wet tongue. "I know you want me, too…I know you do…" His breath was rancid from the beer--or liquor--I couldn't tell anymore. I resisted again, kicking at his legs._

"_Stop it, Phil! Let go of me!" I screamed, flailing and twisting, trying desperately to get away from him._

_He locked his arms around my chest and imprisoned my lips with his own slippery ones, the scent of the alcohol and his putrid tongue making me gag. I tried to scream again, but it was muffled from the ghastly kiss, and before I knew it, I was pinned against the table._

"We're just having some fun, honey." Hat Man was speaking. The Hat Man who looked like him. Like Phil. Like--

_Phil pressed his sex against my groin and I broke my lips free long enough to cry, "Stop!"_

"_Mm," said Phil, slobbering down my neck. "You know you want it, baby, don't tease me--"_

_I sobbed then--uncontrollable, wracking cries shook my body and I bawled, screaming in torment._

"_Mom! Mom! Mom…Mom…I want Mom," I howled over and over, tears streaming from my eyes, blinding me and I choked on my own saliva. Almost instantly, Phil's grip loosened on me and then fell away completely. I fell to the kitchen floor with a sickening thud and pulled my knees to my chest, continuing to cry for Renée._

"_Bella?" Phil said, his voice shaking. "What--why are you doing this?"_

_I trembled in repulsion as I gazed up at him, startled beyond belief as I saw fear in his eyes._

"_M-me?" I cried, still sobbing hysterically. "I--I--you--w-why did __**you**__--do that?"_

"_You--you wanted this!" he accused me, pointing his finger unsteadily. "I saw how you've been looking at me! You--you touched me first! You came onto __**me**__!"_

_My chest felt like it would burst. I couldn't breathe. I shook my head frantically, in shock and disbelief at what had just happened. "Y-you're d-drunk," I bawled. "You don't know w-what you're talking about!"_

_Phil's face contorted from fear to confusion to uncertainty, and then to absolute panic. "N-no, Bella, no…oh, no…No, no, no!" He screamed in misery, and suddenly flung his hand across the table, sending beer bottles and a high-ball glass flying and crashing into the refrigerator. I recoiled and pushed myself further under the table, shaking madly._

"_Bella…but you…you touched me…but I…I'm…__**sorry**__. I'm--" he paused and then suddenly flung himself to the sink as he retched loudly and I shrank into my knees, crying and whispering "Mom" over and over and over until I heard the front door slam._

_He was gone._

"My name's Danny, honey, not Phil."

But Hat Man wasn't gone. He was still touching me. They all were. Fury, disgust, fear and panic took over me and I started flailing my arms, screaming. "Let me go, let me go, _let me go_!"

I felt their hands leave me as quick as they had come, and I stumbled away from them, blinded by the rain and the hair in my eyes. I couldn't see--I couldn't breathe again--I couldn't--

A sharp, blaring sound filled my ears suddenly and then ----

-:-

Nothing. Blissfully black. Sort of. Fuzzy gray shapes were floating past me, but the black returned and noises came and went like static on the radio. It wasn't a good signal…where the hell was I, anyway? It was hard. And cold. And…

_Ow. Fuck._

I realized that I'd had my eyes closed as I fluttered them open and shut, taking in my very blurry surroundings. Someone was touching me. Cradling my head. The movement made my head pulse in agony.

I whined and tried to swat away whatever was touching me. I blinked again and tried to focus. It was a man, I supposed. Women's frames weren't usually that big…unless I had freakin' Xena standing over me. I blinked again and color started to come into focus, too. Black? Brown? Bronze. Green.

Edward.

_Two_ Edwards.

I rolled my eyes back in my head, thinking that I must have died and apparently had been a good girl, because only some sort of heaven would offer such a fantasy. Ha. Heaven was more kinky than I thought. But then, the two Edwards slowly blurred into one…he was saying something…B? Oh, me. Bella.

"Bella!" Ugh. He was shouting. I tried to reach my hand up to cover his mouth, but he grabbed my hand and squeezed, continuing to say my name.

"I hear you," I said, wincing at the movement of even talking. What the hell had happened? I was on the ground…in the rain. Promptly, a large raindrop hit me square in the eye and I flinched, shutting my eyes.

"Oh, my God," I heard Edward say in a faint whisper and I felt him lean down until his forehead was touching my cheek. "Oh, my God, my God…"

"I'm fine," I said, still confused. My head and ass hurt like a bitch, but I was becoming more coherent. "Edward?"

He jerked his head up then and gazed into my eyes. "Bella, are you all right? Don't move. Just--are you okay? Jesus Christ."

"Calm down," I said softly and craned my neck to see what was going on. My eyes widened and my vision blurred only for a moment, and then I saw a green car right in front of us. We were in the _street_?

_Oh, my God, Bella. You got hit by a fucking car?!_

"Did I--get hit by that?" I asked Edward incredulously.

He cupped my cheek in his hand and seemed to struggle to swallow before saying, "Yes. You--you fell backwards into the street. He wasn't going fast--but you hit your head."

_Of course I did. My nickname was Ineptabella Swan, after all._

I sighed heavily and struggled to push myself up, but Edward's warm hands held me down. "No, don't move. Someone's calling for an ambulance--stay down."

"What?" I cried, pushing against his hands. "No! No, I don't want an _ambulance_, Edward!"

"Bella!" he said, sounding anxious. "You--you were hit by a _car_."

I rolled away from his hands and weakly pushed myself up. _Shit_, I was dizzy. Edward's hands held me steady as I slowly rose into a sitting position.

"Is she all right?" I heard someone shout.

I turned toward what was turning out to be quite a crowd standing around the car. People were peering over their neighbors' shoulders and staring at me with wide eyes. Damn it. Audiences always made things ten times as worse.

I spotted one man lying on the ground not too far away, rolling back and forth with his hands over his face, which was pouring blood. Two other men in overalls were standing over him--one of them had a gash under his cheek. Had they gotten hit by the car, too?

"Sweetie, you okay?" another male voice rang out. "I am _so_ sorry. You came out of nowhere, and my car fuckin' hydroplaned."

"Tell them I'm fine," I mumbled to Edward, pressing my hand to the back of my head. "Tell them not to call an ambulance. Ambulances mean hospitals."

"_You're going to the hospital_," Edward said sternly, making me stare at him in awe at the sound of his voice.

"No," I argued. "I'm _fine_."

"Bella, don't be a child," Edward all but growled at me; however, seeing him look so worried made him sound less threatening. "You were unconscious. You have to get your head checked."

"I am not getting in a damn ambulance, I swear to God," I said, just as serious. "I'll go, but I'm not going in one of those--"

A faint siren sounded and I let my breath out in an aggravated sigh. It was all a blur, really. Police cars showed up like there was a bank robbery going on and officers separated me and Edward so they could talk to each of us. They threw lots of questions at me as a few paramedics made their way over and starting interjecting questions between the cops'.

"What's your name?"

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Can you see me?"

"Were you assaulted?"

"How's your pain?"

"How many men were there?"

"Any blurred vision?"

"Did you step into the street, or did the car swerve into you?"

"Are you able to breathe normally?"

I was overwhelmed and tried to answer as best as I could, having no recollection of what happened after Edward had left to get his car. Was I _assaulted_? What kind of question was that? I thought I was hit by a car…

I looked around in a daze at everything going on around me, wondering if it was actually happening…I felt like I was hallucinating. Maybe this whole thing was one big illusion. Maybe I was still dreaming from my first night at the lodge…maybe I'd even imagined Edward--though that was a horrifying thought. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the clogged feeling in my head.

"Okay, let's get her on a gurney," one of the paramedics said.

_That_ brought me out of my funk. "No," I answered. "I don't want you to take me. I'll go to the hospital, just not in that." I stared pointedly at the shiny red and white truck with all that…_medical equipment_ inside.

"Ma'am," one of the medics said in a strict, rehearsed voice, "you are physically unable to drive yourself to a medical facility. I strongly advise you to let us take you in to get treatment. You could be bleeding internally."

_Ew, I'd better not be_.

"I'm not by myself," I said, pointing over to where the police were talking to Edward. One of the men with the overalls was standing with them, pointing over to where the bloody man was propped up on the ground with a paramedic hovering over him, too. "That's my friend." _Sort of. _"He'll take me." _If I let him._

"Ma'am--"

"I'm not going with you," I said obstinately. "Really, I'm okay." I knew I sounded like an idiot--what mentally stable person thinks they're _fine_ after getting hit by a car and blacking out? But I just wanted to leave. I wanted to get back in Edward's car, away from the crowd and questions, and go to sleep.

"I really didn't hit her hard at all." I heard the voice that had called me 'Sweetie' earlier pop up again. I turned to look and saw a brown-haired guy looking at me nervously. "I tried to swerve--she just got swiped, bounced off the car, and hit the ground."

_That sounded like something that __**would**__ happen to me. _

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness nearly knocked me flat on my back and the paramedics grabbed me before I could crack my head against the pavement again.

"Hey, Bella," said another medic with a much gentler tone. He gripped my hand with his. "My name's Ben. Now, listen, honey, I know you're nervous, but it really is in your best interest to come with us. Your friend over there is scared enough--why don't you let him meet you there and save him the anxiety?"

I groaned. "Fine…" I mumbled in a defeated tone. "Even though it's ludicrous," I added under my breath.

I felt moronic as they strapped me down to a gurney with Velcro straps, like someone who might have had a broken neck. Ben and the other paramedic who remained nameless picked me up and slid the gurney into the back of the ambulance. As the one guy started hooking the gurney up with what looked like giant seatbelts, I asked Ben, "My friend…can you go and see if he knows where I am? His name's Edward."

"Sure thing," said Ben, nodding to his partner and jumping out of the ambulance.

I stared at the ceiling in silence, thinking of the dreaded phone call I'd eventually have to make to Charlie and Renée. Renée would freak out, of course, and Charlie would probably call all of his Forks friends to get them to check up on me or bring me home or something overprotective. After what felt like forever, Edward finally appeared at my side, his hair slickly straight from the incessant rain. _God_, did he look fantastic when wet.

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern. He had a trace of vexation in his face.

"I'm fine," I said impatiently. "They're taking me to the damn hospital. I don't even have my insurance card. _Someone_ wouldn't let me bring my purse."

"I'll get it," he promised, rubbing my arm. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

There he went with the apologies.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "I'm the idiot who stepped into oncoming traffic, apparently."

"She might not remember what happened for a bit," Ben explained to Edward. "If she has a concussion, she might not recall it at all."

"What do you remember?" Edward asked me curiously, his eyes sparkling in a quizzical gaze.

"You left to get your car, and I…" I said, then shook my head. I honestly had no idea. "I don't know. I woke up to you over me, calling my name."

Edward's face tensed and he pushed his hands through his hair. My eyes widened when I realized he was bleeding.

"What happened to your hand?" I exclaimed, reaching out to pull his arm toward me. His right hand was swollen and his knuckles were scuffed and bloody.

Edward flexed his fingers and shared a look with Ben before muttering, "I tripped."

I studied him for a moment before blurting out, "You're lying." And he was. I could tell his "lying" face by now.

He creased his eyebrows. "No, I'm not, Bella, don't worry about it. Which hospital are you taking her to?" he asked Ben.

"Olympic Medical Center over on Caroline Street," said Ben. "It's right over by--"

"Scratch that," said a voice of another paramedic from the front of the ambulance. I couldn't see him since I was strapped down. I felt like I was in a huge finger-splint. "Olympic's got a water main break that's covering the entire ER and trauma center. They're rerouting us."

"They have to take us--we're three minutes away," Ben argued.

"I don't know, man, they're saying they're sending their traumas to Providence St. Peter or Forks Community," said the Wizard of Ambu-Oz.

"Providence is almost three hours away," said Ben in exasperation. "Forks is in the middle of nowhere."

"We're staying in Forks," Edward said.

Ben turned to him. "You said you have to get her insurance card, anyway?"

Edward nodded and Ben looked down at me. "Well, honey, are you up for it?"

"I guess I have to be," I said resignedly. At least we would be close to the lodge. That just meant less time for me be nauseous in the car on the ride back. Hospitals meant needles, and I knew I was going to have a rough night ahead of me.

Ben checked to make sure the gurney was properly secured to the floor and moved so Edward could take a seat. "Are you coming with us, sir?"

I almost giggled at hearing Edward being called '_sir' _by a guy who was probably the same age as him. Edward looked down at me with pain in his eyes and picked up my hand. "I can if you want," he said to me. "I could always get a taxi to take us back. I can get my car later."

"_Edward_," I stressed. "Don't leave your car here. You act like I'm dying. Do I really look that bad?" I must have looked horrendous. I thanked the heavens that I had skipped on the mascara again that morning.

"No," he said, shaking his head with a slight smile. "You look beautiful."

My mouth went dry and was very thankful that I wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor at that moment. I tried to answer with something suitable, but all I could do was giggle. Fucking giggle!

"Sorry," I said, wincing at the pain that reverberated through my body. "I must really look wrecked for you to have to say something like that."

He shook his head again and looked at Ben. "Forks Community Hospital?"

"Yeah," said Ben. "Are you familiar with it?"

"I'll find it," Edward answered, then gave me one last look. "I'll be there as soon as I get your purse."

"Okay," I said, hoping that I had remembered not to leave my underwear lying around on my bedroom floor. If any were in plain sight, I hoped that it was a pair of pretty ones and not the pair with blue and purple penguins printed all over them. Jesus, I hope my tampons hadn't fallen out of a bag, either. "Please don't wreck your car," I told him, imagining him speeding along the highway just to get to my damn medical insurance.

Edward smiled and gave my hand one more squeeze, then hopped out of the ambulance. I turned to look at Ben, who smirked.

"And you said he's just your friend?" he asked.

I nodded. "We've only known each other for two days."

"Ha," said Ben, chuckling and shaking his head. "With the way you two were looking at each other, I give it three days before you're joined at the lips."

_Don't tease me_, I thought, feeling dizzy again. I cringed when the siren started wailing. At least no one could see inside of this blasted contraption. Ben patted my shoulder as we started moving, the rain still coming down with a fierce supremacy. Thinking of the needles and blood tests that were awaiting me, I closed my eyes and hoped to God that I didn't vomit while I was still strapped down.

-:-

**First: Ahhhhh. ****That was me breathing a huge sigh of relief. I ended up not loving this chapter at first, but now that I'm finished, I like it a little more. Writer's block threatened me with this one--I've been too consumed with writing future chapters…a lot more fun stuff happens. Good, bad, ugly, pretty… hehe. Shall I insert a wink-wink? **

**Second: Bella was **_**not**_** raped by Phil, just in case I wasn't clear enough. There will be more answers to all that in the next chapter. Also, Bella doesn't have a recollection of what happened outside the restaurant for a reason…again, more will be explained in the next chapter. It will all be clear from Edward's POV…oh, right--once Edward's secrets are out and all, I'm going to start my own little 'Midnight Sun' and rewrite this story from his POV for kicks and my crazy entertainment. I don't like being the only one knowing what he's been thinking this entire time! Let me know if you think that's a good or bad idea, please?**

**Thanks again for reading everyone. It touches m'heart to know that you actually took time to read my little guilty pleasure. Also, I urge you all to listen to Ludovico Einaudi's music. I have two of his songs, including Primavera, in my play list if you want to check them out, but each one of his pieces has the ability to spellbind…dooo it.**


	9. Memories, Mitigation, and Morphine

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do, however, own a computer with a severe personality disorder. Some of this was written the old-fashioned way-pencil and paper. It was like I was transported back to the 1800's. I've gotten too modernized! *sigh***

**Sorry for the delay in the update! I almost feel the need to take on a manly, deep voice and say: **_**Previously on the Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep...**_** just to jog everyone's memory. Hopefully, I can make up for it with an extra long chapter. And I do mean a **_**ridiculously long **_**one. If anyone actually attempts to read this in one sitting, I applaud you. Just please remember to hydrate!**

**Special thanks to Emilie Fauve, who's pretty much my unofficial beta.**

**So...enjoy? :)**

-:-

"Isabella! _Isabella_ _Swan!"_

I groggily moaned as a jarring bump forced me into a state of consciousness. I smelled rubbing alcohol. And plastic. And something cold was blowing up my nose. Ew. Oxygen prongs.

"Isabella?"

Had I been sleeping? I opened my eyes and blinked through the fuzziness. "Hmm?" I answered, not sure who had called my name.

As I focused, I was shocked to find that I was no longer in the back of the ambulance. Instead, I was being wheeled through an emergency room with bright lights and white walls by a mass of strangers. A lady in Pepto-Bismol pink scrubs was shining a penlight in my eyes, causing me to whine and recoil.

"Take it easy on her," said a familiar voice. "Hey, Bella, welcome back."

I squinted and was relieved to see Ben as one of the people directing the gurney traffic. "Ben?" I asked in disorientation.

"It's okay, you're doing fine," he answered, giving me a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Everything might feel a little hazy."

The Pepto-clothed lady snapped her fingers in my face and I winced, inwardly cursing at the pain in my head. "Can you see me, Isabella?" she asked, holding up some fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"

"Three," I answered, utterly confused as to how I had gotten here without remembering a bit of it.

"Good," she said, and flashed the penlight in my eyes again. "Tell me how old you are."

"Twenty-one," I answered, turning my face away from the light.

She reached down and pulled my chin back so I was facing her; Ben shook his head and looked as though he wanted to shove her out of the way. "I'm going to need you to keep your head still," she continued. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

I blinked again. That light was inanely annoying. "Um … Saturday? October third?"

"Responsive to verbal and visual stimuli," she said to a fellow scrub-wearer, and he quickly jotted the information down on a clipboard. How very _ER_.

I listened as everyone around me exchanged information on what I assumed were my vital signs. I didn't hear the words "critical" or "severe bleeding" coming out of their mouths, so that kept me from bursting into tears, at any rate.

I gave an anxious glance to Ben. "I don't remember. When did we get here?"

"A minute ago," he answered with a reassuring squeeze to my arm, and then he smiled craftily. "You were in and out in the ambulance. We had a very interesting conversation."

"Huh?" I remembered no such thing.

He continued smirking. "Something about Michelangelo and his _reaction_ if he had carved a statue-"

"Oh, Jesus," I interrupted, reaching up to cover my face in humiliation. Instead, I stopped short as I saw that an IV catheter was sticking out of my hand. When had _that_ happened? "Who stuck me?"

"I did," said Ben. "You were pretty compliant. Then again, you were too busy talking about chocolate mousse to notice what I was doing."

I opened my mouth in horror. "I _didn't_."

"Don't worry, I won't tell," said Ben, chuckling as we rounded a corner.

I ended up being pushed into a curtained area and was instantly hooked up to numerous wires and medical gadgets. My stomach started to churn like a Martha Stewart mixer on crack, and I glanced around anxiously, looking for the dreaded set of drawers that were undoubtedly full of syringes and other torture devices.

"All right, when she's hooked up, let's take her to CT," I heard someone say.

"Well, Bella," said Ben in a placating voice, "this is where I hand you over to the professionals."

Pepto Lady gave him a hard stare, continuing to press wires attached to sticky circles on my chest, underneath my shirt. "You could have left her to the professionals at the _door_," she muttered under her breath.

Ben gave her a slight eye-roll, then winked at me. "I only leave the ones who aren't any fun at the door," he said. "You were _very_ entertaining."

I cringed. God only knew what else I had mumbled in my altered state.

"I hope you feel better soon, Bella," said Ben, giving me a kind smile. "Tell Edward I said I'll see him around. And remember, I bet you … three days."

Three days? Oh, right. Edward's lips on mine. _Sure_. "Whatever, you can send my check to the Red Timber Lodge when that doesn't happen," I said jokingly, although I felt apprehensive that he was leaving. "You won't repeat anything I said, right?"

He held his index finger to his lips, indicating a shushing gesture. "No one would believe me, anyway," he said with a laugh. "Take care of yourself."

"Thank you … bye," I said quietly, knowing that I had inevitably flushed a shade of pink. I watched Ben leave, then closed my eyes to avoid Nurse Ratched sticking that goddamned light in my face again.

-:-

After a head CT, some x-rays, and some much-needed bandaging, I was planted on a transportable bed, forced into a hospital gown, and wheeled into another curtained area on the emergency floor.

This time, I only received one nurse - a girl with long, brown hair in flowery scrubs that were way too tight, in my opinion. Her nametag, which read "Hannah," was pinned to her chest, and her bosom swelled under the flower-printed material, making it seem as though the blossoms were on hills. Not so surprisingly, her cleavage was actually visible from the small scrub top. She primped herself in the mirror before turning to me with a contrived smile.

_Great. Jessica number two._

"Isabella Swan?" she questioned.

"Yes," I answered.

"The old Police Chief's daughter?"

I sighed and nodded, thinking how I should invest in a t-shirt that read 'Yes, I am Charlie Swan's Little Princess, Please Stop the Fucking Inquiries.'

She gave a little "Hmm," and proceeded to give me a verbal rundown of everything that had occurred since I'd arrived. I nodded in agreement, feeling more like a loser by the second as she replayed the fact that I'd been struck by a car and knocked myself unconscious on the street. I tuned her out, seeing as I'd already heard my numerous vitals and such, and decided to try to remember exactly what had happened to make me fall into the road in the first place.

As neurotic as I was sometimes, I knew I wouldn't have done it purposely. I wasn't channeling Sylvia Plath quite _that_ much. I supposed I could have tripped, which would be nothing new or shocking. Then I remembered Edward saying that I _had_ fallen, after all … but what was I doing so close to the street? I thought I'd been in the restaurant. What would have made me go back outside?

_To check to see if Edward had pulled up with the car yet._

Yes, that was possible. Maybe he'd gotten there, and I'd run out to the car and slipped. But, if that was the case, I would have just slammed into his car - I wouldn't have taken a giant leap over it and pummeled into another vehicle. I hadn't remembered seeing his Volvo, anyway.

"…give you a minimal dose of morphine for the pain," Hannah's voice filtered through my thoughts. "You should feel slightly more comfortable after that."

"Uh-huh," I answered, not really caring what she gave me, but if it was going to help my headache, then she could give me a bucketful. I felt slightly nauseous as I watched her stick a syringe into my IV tube.

_Ugh_. I looked the other way, hating how squeamish I was.

She finished rather quickly and started to fiddle with a clipboard, pausing now and again to flip her hair. Minutes passed, and eventually, a man in blue scrubs peeked through the curtain. "Ms. Swan?" he inquired with an oddly jovial expression.

"Yes?" I answered, and my pulse had a malfunction as I wondered what that smiling sadist was going to do to me. Take my blood, possibly? Stick me with a horse tranquilizer? Butcher my insides with a scalpel and hang my innards around his basement like party lights?

"Dr. Cullen will be right with you," he answered lightly.

I relaxed, thankful that I hadn't just peed myself in terror. "O-okay," I answered, just as Hannah dropped her clipboard, causing a loud clatter. She scooped it up quickly, and glanced around the small, curtained room as if she'd just been told that a bomb was going off in ten seconds. I questioningly raised my eyebrows at her, hoping that 'the doctor will be right with you' line wasn't code for 'the chainsaw room is ready for her.'

Instantly, Hannah started babbling like a nervous chicken. "Uh … um, how - how do you feel, Isabella? The morphine should make you feel comfortable. It takes a couple of minutes to kick in, you know. Are you relaxed?" She was looking at me with an intense expression on her face, as though I'd suddenly become critical. "_Are you relaxed_?" she continued, her eyes widening.

_Oh God. Psychotic nurse. You're going to die_.

"N-no," I replied, shrinking against my bed. "Not really."

"I could give you a bit more," she said, appearing flustered as she looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "You've only had a small dose. Another milligram wouldn't hurt."

I was about to suggest that maybe she could use a dose of it herself, but I supposed she took my uneasy stare as an answer, as she started preparing another syringe. I glanced at my hand, where the catheter was taped just below my knuckles. Just one look at the small splotch of blood that had soaked through the cotton gauze, and I could have sworn I felt the room sway. Luckily, the sterilized smell of the hospital was keeping the odor of the blood at bay, but even _thinking _about the corroded, saline scent caused me to reflexively swallow.

After Hannah was finished drugging me up, she immediately moved toward the small mirror on the wall. I watched as she snuck her hand into her pocket and pulled out a tube of lipstick. Trying to appear inconspicuous, she put on a smear of cherry red gunk around her already colored lips and fluffed her hair, then turned to give me a quick glance. I would have snorted if I thought it wouldn't have hurt.

She then pushed the curtain to my room wide open and turned to fumble in a supply cabinet, leaving me feeling like an exposed zoo animal as patients and other hospital staff turned to stare at me. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, hoping that the morphine would stop me from blushing for the moment. I kept still and focused on the sound of the faint music coming from a distant speaker; Ingrid Michaelson was playing.

"Bella?" a familiar voice suddenly rang out from the hall. I turned my head slowly, still feeling in danger of passing out and stared at a girl wearing light green scrubs.

_Angela_. _Thank you, God._

She rushed into my makeshift room, nearly sending Cherry Lips tumbling into the cabinet. "What happened to you?" she asked softly, her brown eyes wide with worry.

"Hi," I said, relieved to see her. "I kind of got hit by a car."

Her eyes grew even wider. "What? When? Did they catch the moron who hit you?"

"Apparently, I was the one at fault for falling into the street," I mumbled, still frustrated at my frozen memory. "I can't remember anything about it."

"Oh, Bella," Angela soothed, giving my arm a squeeze. "How do you feel? Did a doctor see you yet?"

"I'm fine," I reassured her. "Someone said that Dr. Cullen was coming?"

"Oh, _good_," she said, turning to look down the hallway. "He's the best doctor we have."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" I asked, fumbling nervously with a frayed edge of my blanket.

"He's a _genius_," Hannah said devotedly from the corner, a kind of intensity lighting her eyes. Angela and I stared at her, and she flushed a little before turning back to the supply cabinet.

"Well, it's true, anyway," said Angela with a hint of amusement. "You would think he'd be at Hopkins or the Mayo Clinic, honestly. It's a miracle he's even in a little town like this."

"Is he from here?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Actually, no. He and his family moved here a couple years ago. He's stuck by Forks Community the whole time. And I know he's _had_ to have received some incredible offers…"

"Hmm," I replied, thinking that I could at least tell my parents that I'd had the best doctor in Forks; that might keep them from taking a red eye to come and drag me back home. I narrowed my eyes, noticing that Hannah was still fidgeting loudly in the supply cabinet. I wondered what the hell she was looking for.

Angela followed my eyes and rolled her own. "For goodness' sake," she muttered under her breath. "Hannah, why don't you let me watch over Bella? My other two patients were just discharged."

Hannah stared at her like a deer in headlights. "W-well, I don't know about that. Isabella is _my_ patient."

"Well, _Bella_ is my friend, so why don't you let me take her so that she has a familiar face?" Angela said, eyeing her strangely. "It would probably make her feel better."

"Angela, you know that's not normal procedure," said Hannah, seeming defensive. I wondered if they were having some sort of 'Whoever clears the most patients wins a week's paid vacation!' contest or something. Although, I didn't think Angela was the type to try to steal me just for the sake of a game. She was too kind. But I didn't understand why Hannah would want to hang onto me; I was just another head trauma victim to her. And then, for the umpteenth time that evening, my name was spoken.

"Isabella Swan?"

I'd never heard my name so charismatically vocalized. All three of us turned toward the melodic voice and my jaw unhinged, practically swinging in utter astonishment.

_Oh. My. Good. God._

Dr. Cullen, I presumed, had noiselessly approached the curtain. I'd never seen such a drop-dead gorgeous doctor in my twenty-one years of life, and that was saying something, considering the number of medical practitioners I'd encountered during my uncountable injuries. He had blond hair, golden-amber eyes that were positively iridescent, and had the clearest, palest complexion I'd ever seen… almost albino, but it was glorious, all the same.

I tried to speak, but I could only form a awestruck stare. I seriously needed to work on my first initial reaction to attractive people. It was getting embarrassing and starting to border on psychosis.

_Down, girl. Tear your gaze away, you disreputable maniac._

He stepped forward and looked at a silver chart in his hands, then looked back up with a devastatingly handsome smile. "Have I been mistaken?" he asked when I didn't answer. His voice was like music. I hated to admit it, but it was even smoother than Edward's.

I made a strangled sound in my throat, and thankfully Angela spoke up. "No, Dr. Cullen. This is Bella - Chief Swan's daughter?"

"Of course," he said, pulling the curtain halfway shut and coming up to my bedside. I noticed the faintest traces of purplish skin under his eyes, probably from the exhaustive schedule a doctor usually carried. Even so, he appeared flawless. "I can see the resemblance. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella, although under unfortunate circumstances. I'm Carlisle, or Dr. Cullen, as they call me around here."

"Hi," I said quietly, careful not to gawk at him for too long. _Carlisle. What an inimitable name._

"Uh, Dr. Cullen," Hannah piped up. "I'm Isabella's nurse for the evening. I have her vitals and stats right here for you."

Angela appeared nonchalant, but Hannah practically fell all over herself as she strode to his side and offered him the clipboard she had been writing on. It all made sense now. Hannah didn't want to fuss over me, she wanted to spend the rest of the evening _playing doctor _with Dr. _Carlisle_ Cullen.

"Oh, thank you, Hannah," he said, taking the clipboard from her. "So, Angela, are you sticking around with us?"

"Well, I was just telling Hannah that I'd like to take over her duties if she didn't mind," said Angela honestly. "Bella is staying at the lodge where I volunteer and I thought she might like someone familiar to stay with her."

Dr. Cullen glanced at Hannah. "That's perfectly fine with me. Bella, would that be acceptable?"

I nodded quickly. "I'd like that."

"Well, I guess - I suppose… are you _sure _you don't have somewhere else to be, Angela?" Hannah asked, seeming to mentally scramble for a better solution.

"Not at all," said Angela. "Like I said, my patients have been discharged, and I'd like to be here for Bella."

"Okay, then," said Dr. Cullen, sliding a pen out from the clipboard and writing something; perhaps replacing Hannah's name with Angela's. "Thank you, Hannah, but I think Angela can take it from here."

Hannah looked like a lion ready to pounce, but she managed to keep quiet and give him a tight nod. She walked out of the room, but not before pulling a double "Ineptabella" as her face turned a defiant shade of red and she stumbled over her feet as she rounded the corner. I almost felt sorry for her.

"Well, Bella," Dr. Cullen continued, "I have good news. Your CT and x-rays looked normal. You do have a moderate concussion, but I would say that given the situation, you were a lucky girl. I think you'll be just fine, but I would advise you to stay for a few hours so we can monitor you… maybe get one more CT scan and make sure that you don't have any complications."

"Sure," I agreed, nodding. Normally, I would have groaned and bitched about staying anywhere in any medical atmosphere, but his voice was so soothing and he had such an air of calm about him… I folded like a limp flower. And I couldn't stop gazing at him, oddly entranced by his entire being. There was something _ethereal_ about him, but beautifully so. Also, I was still stunned at the fact that he was a _doctor_. He appeared so young - he couldn't have been over thirty, and if he was, he was blessed with some sort of unexplained anti-aging metabolism. Either that, or he had the fountain of youth in his backyard. Or he'd been a child prodigy and graduated medical school at twenty.

As I continued to stare at him like a moron, he pulled out a penlight and adroitly gave me a neurological check, asking me to remember the words _tree_, _apple_, and _deer_. "Your reactions are sufficient. Tell me, Bella, are you experiencing any memory loss? Dizziness?"

Time to be honest, I supposed. "I'm not exactly dizzy anymore. But… I don't really remember what happened. I remember waiting for my friend in a restaurant and then I woke up in the street. The ambulance ride was kind of a blackout, too."

He nodded, his expression softening. Angela slipped her hand around mine. I must have appeared frightened.

"Slight amnesia is common in concussions," said Dr. Cullen. "You might remember in a few minutes to a few hours… maybe not at all, but that's okay, too. As long as you are coherent and your memory is functioning now, then you should be fine. What were those three words again?"

"Tree, apple, and deer," I answered, slightly relieved.

He gave me a brilliant smile, flashing shiny, white teeth that belonged in a Crest toothpaste commercial. "You're well on your way," he said gently and patted my arm. His hands were predictably freezing, as most doctors' were, and I noticed a gold band encircling his left ring finger.

_Married. Of course._

I smiled woozily, finally feeling the morphine kick in. "Aww," I said, sounding rather girly, to my surprise. "Is she nice?"

He glanced at where my eyes were transfixed and chuckled. "Why, yes, she is," he said harmoniously. "Her name is Esme."

"That's a nice name," I said, letting my head fall back against the pillows. Everything suddenly felt very warm and fuzzy. Behind the flap of curtain that was pulled shut, I saw Hannah peeking in, trying to appear blasé. However, I saw her suck in her stomach and push out her chest before pulling back the curtain a bit. Her boobs looked massive in those tight scrubs.

_Cherry Lips the camel has _two _humps, _I sang silently to myself, inadvertently giggling.

Angela gave me an amused look while Dr. Cullen turned toward the curtain, having heard Hannah's intake of breath. "Yes?" he asked.

"Dr. Cullen, your daughter is here to see you," she said in a blithe voice.

_He has a daughter?_ How old could she have possibly been?

He creased his eyebrows and turned to me. "Would you excuse me, Bella?"

"Oh, yeah," I said agreeably. Regardless of being confused about the age mathematics, I was feeling quite content.

"I'll return in a bit to check on you," he said, standing and gracefully moving toward the foot of my bed. "Angela, would you mind?"

"No, of course not," Angela answered. "I have to finish some routine procedures anyway. We'll be fine."

He gave another one of his heartwarming smiles and breezed through the curtain with Hannah at his heels like an eager-to-please puppy, leaving me and Angela alone.

"He's pretty," I mumbled drowsily. "How _old_ is he?"

Angela chuckled and walked over to the supply cabinet. "Thirty-one. You'd _never_ think it by looking at him, would you?"

"No," I answered honestly. "He should write a book on all his skin-care secrets. So, how old is his daughter, then?"

"He's got two," she said. "They're seventeen and eighteen." She laughed at the wooly look on my face and added, "He and his wife have foster children. Two boys and two girls. Although, I think two of them are somehow related to his wife - cousins or a niece and nephew, or something."

"Wow," I answered. "That's really nice of them."

"Yeah, Dr. Cullen's very philanthropic - to his family and his patients," she agreed. "Which is why I'd better get you taken care of." She walked back over to me and sat in a swivel chair. She was holding a few plastic-packaged … _things_.

"So, I'm sorry I never got a chance to say goodbye last night," she said casually. "I got called into work and couldn't find you before I left."

"Oh, uh … I fell asleep. Um… what are you doing with that?" I asked in apprehension as I watched Angela unwrap a plastic tube and what appeared to be a silver stick - a needle. _And_ she was preparing it as though she was planning on using it.

She raised her eyebrows innocently. "Oh, this? It's just a little stick, Bella, don't be nervous."

No. That was not just a little stick. That was a little fucking inclinator that would send my stomach contents shooting out of me faster than Edward's car could speed. My skin was getting clammy already. "Are you taking my blood? Is that really necessary?"

"It's procedure," she explained, tying a rubber strip around my bicep. "Just close your eyes and lay still. I'll make it quick, I promise."

I braced myself as she opened my arm so the crook was exposed. "And it's something I have bragging rights on," she continued. "I've never missed a vein."

And then she stuck me as I was still reeling over the word _vein. _The very thought of the needle piercing my flesh and poking a hole in my _vein_ sent me teetering on the edge between puking and passing out. I groaned and felt the blood drain from my face.

"Bella! Stay with me, now," she said in a soothing voice. "I don't want Dr. Cullen to think I'm killing you. Tell me something good."

"What?" I asked, feeling my stomach churn.

"Distract yourself," she said. "Tell me something funny. Or tell me about the movie last night. Did you like it? Did you get a good night kiss?"

My thoughts were diverted for a brief second and I almost laughed, thinking how I would have been on the freaking moon if that would have happened. "Um… Edward and I caught Lauren screwing some guy on the fourth floor."

Angela's eyes widened. "You what?"

"She didn't see us," I said, squeezing my eyes shut and swallowing thickly. "Edward pulled me behind one of those pillars to hide."

"Did you see the guy?"

I shook my head, wincing at little shot of pain. "No, I only heard him say not to tell Tyler. Or Jessica."

Angela's lip curled and she looked disgusted. "Mike Newton. God, they're such a mess. I should spare you the foolish details… I only know about this because Lauren treats me like her own personal therapist, but about a month ago, Mike caught Lauren with Tyler's roommate - Tyler's her boyfriend. She pretty much told Mike that she would do anything in order for him to keep his mouth shut, and he took '_anything_' as an opportunity. No surprise there, that horny little cock."

Well, that took care of the hallway rendezvous mystery, _and_ I was finally distracted enough to giggle. Cock. C-O-C-K. I snorted, feeling oddly lightheaded and drunk. I wanted to _sleep_…

"Bella?"

"You said cock," I mumbled.

Angela grinned. "Morphine," she said with a lighthearted sigh, and I felt her press something soft to the crook of my arm. "You're all finished. See? And you're still conscious."

"Give me time," I said, blinking and rolling my head to look at her. "Oh, I forgot… Edward went to get my insurance card. He's supposed to be coming here."

"Edward?" she repeated. "He was with you when you were hit?"

"Yeah, we went to Port Angeles this morning," I said. "We were getting ready to leave and it was raining. I remember him going to get his car… and that's it."

She pursed her lips in quiet thought. "And they brought you here from Port Angeles?"

"There was a water main break at the hospital there," I answered. "I have bad luck like that."

A nurse suddenly poked his head around the corner of the curtain. "Angela?" he asked. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure," she said, and walked out into the hallway, holding a bit of the curtain with her hand. I tried to listen, but they were too quiet for me to understand anything. Angela stepped back inside seconds later and looked at me with a beam. "Well, apparently, Bella, there's some guy claiming to know you out in the lobby and he's holding your health insurance card."

_Edward. _I waited for one of my monitors to start beeping like mad because of my heart rate, but was surprised to find that no such thing happened. I smiled drunkenly.

_Aha. Morphine. What a wonderful little drug. _

"I'll go get him," she said. "Stay put, okay?"

Like I could go anywhere without falling on my accident-prone ass, anyway_._ I nodded and she brushed through the curtain and out of sight. I concentrated on the ceiling tiles again and strained to hear what song was playing. I couldn't make it out… maybe the morphine was garbling my hearing. But then I heard footsteps and saw shadows behind the curtain.

Angela stepped inside first, and then there Edward was, in all his splendor, as usual. He had a bag with him - whatever was in it, I didn't know. He'd changed his clothes, now in black instead of green. Honestly, it didn't matter what he wore - he still looked ravishing. He stared at me, seemingly shaken. I probably looked like a freak show, all wired up to machines, bandaged, with tubes stuck in me.

_Ugh. Don't think about it too much._

"Look who I found in the waiting room," said Angela, giving Edward a shove toward my bed. "He was wearing a hole in the carpet with his pacing."

He gave her a subtle glance, dropped the bag he was holding behind a chair, then walked over to my side, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. "How are you?" he asked, still as serious as ever.

"I… I'm… fine," I said slowly, wondering whether Edward was the cause of my delayed speech, or the drugs were.

"She's had some morphine," Angela explained. "But she's doing well, honestly. Her CT and x-rays are fine. Other than some minor cuts and bruises, she just has a concussion."

Edward looked at me, then back at Angela. "Her memory?" he inquired, not meeting my eyes.

I was too busy concentrating on Edward's still scratched and swollen hand to answer for myself, so Angela spoke for me. "The last she said, all she remembers is you leaving her at the restaurant to get your car."

He visibly grimaced and grasped the steel bars of my hospital bed, still appearing distressed. He and Angela exchanged some other words, but I found myself suddenly tuned out to all sounds. Maybe it was the medication, but to me, Edward's movements seemed to go in slow motion: his eyelashes brushed his skin lightly as he blinked and those enthralling green pools of allure in his eyes were so deep, I would have happily drowned in them. I couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop memorizing each facet of his face, not ever wanting to forget the sight of him…

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Angela move toward me quickly just as one of my monitors beeped in a rapid tone. "Bella?" she called, shaking my shoulder.

I had been holding my breath without realizing it and my pulse ox monitor was having a small fit.

_Um, hello? Breathe!_

It took me a second, but I managed to exhale and both Angela and Edward looked at me with anxious faces.

"Are you okay?" they both asked in tandem.

_Oh, how to explain this… _I stared, at a loss for words. _I have an unshakable desire to stare at his face and sometimes I forget to breathe when he get remotely close to me. And I'm a fucking nutcase. But, I'm fine, really._

"Yes," I said finally, inhaling deeply and letting it go to show them I was capable of drawing in oxygen. Angela started checking numerous little wires that I was hooked up to and the machines beside me, and Edward leaned closer to me, looking concerned. "Sorry. I was just … thinking."

_About swimming in your eyes. And caressing your magnificent cheekbones. Possibly licking them._

Angela turned her attention back to me, seeming more at ease with my now normal vitals. "Geez, Bella," she said with a relieved smile. "Feel free to breathe when you do that."

I moved my hands to push them through my tangled hair, but then realized Edward was grasping one of them tightly. The familiar, warm feeling traveled up my arm and through me, slightly more overwhelming than whatever else was flowing through my bloodstream.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again, not convinced.

"Yeah, I'm…" God, his presence made my stomach flip like crazy. "I'm good."

I'd just spent the _whole _day with him_. _All of my fanatical butterflies needed to stop, damn it. Though… usually, the butterflies were lighter than this. _These _butterflies were on a profuse amount of speed and felt as though they were creeping up my throat. The feeling grew more uncomfortable and I slowly pulled my hand away from his to brush cold sweat off of my forehead.

_Oh, God. No. No, no, no._

"Angela?" I called, embarrassed at how weak I sounded. She turned, got a look at my face, and understood immediately. Thankfully, Edward had turned to face her as well, and I anxiously, but subtly, nodded at him and then the curtain.

_Get him out._

Luckily, Angela was having an 'Edward' moment and grabbed him by his shoulders.

"Hey, Edward," she said quickly, pulling him to the end of the curtain. "If you go to the right, there's a nurse's station all the way down the hall. Do me a favor and ask one of them to get Bella some apple juice?"

"Is-"

He started to speak, but Angela pushed him out into the hallway and pointed. "Way down there," she said. "Thanks."

Edward looked uncertain, slightly confused, and a little worried, but he finally walked away. Angela rushed to the supply cabinet and pulled out an emesis basin, put it into my hands and hurriedly sat me up. My stomach churned wildly and I tried to keep from gagging.

"I sent him the wrong way," she said quietly. "He won't be back for a few minutes."

"Thanks," I said feebly. "Do you think he's out of earshot?"

Angela glanced at the curtain and waited a few moments. "Uh… yeah, probably now."

That was all I needed to hear. Humiliation washed over me concurrently with nausea as I was sick, and I hoped that I wasn't completely grossing out my neighbors too badly. Angela, the angel that she was, pulled my hair away from my face and soothingly rubbed my back. And then, as if things weren't already awkward enough, Dr. Cullen returned.

_The beautiful blond doctor is watching you puke your guts out into a plastic bowl. How freaking lovely._

"Oh, God," I said, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would make him unable to see me. "Please don't watch me. This is so gross." I contemplated on whether it was possible to die from utter mortification.

"It's nothing we haven't seen before," he said calmly, coming around and putting his icy hand on my shoulder, which actually felt wonderful on my heated skin. "And this is common with head injuries, don't worry."

I knew. Unfortunately, this wasn't my first concussion. When I was pretty sure that I was _done, _I grabbed a tissue to wipe my mouth, muttering apologies.

"Oh, stop," said Angela, with a comforting smile. "Unlike most circumstances, you actually didn't do it _on me_. So, consider yourself a good patient."

Dr. Cullen gave my eyes another check and lowered me back down to the bed. "Increase her saline drip, please, Angela."

"Am I allowed to sleep?" I asked, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. Not to mention I was eager for a painless oblivion.

"You _are_," said Dr. Cullen, a crease forming in his immaculate forehead, "but we'll be waking you every so often to check on you. Feel free to close your eyes for a bit, though."

"Okay," I mumbled, rolling to my side and pressing my face into the thin pillow. It smelled like a closet. A _clean_ closet, but a closet nonetheless. I closed my eyes, missing the lodge's fresh lemon-scented sheets and soft mattress. Instead of rubbing alcohol and stale cotton, I imagined the scent of burning wood and coffee… and all the enticing things that Edward smelled like. That soothed me enough to relax, and I listened to Dr. Cullen and Angela's voices grow muffled I as slowly, and mercifully, faded out.

-:-

It came in fragmented spurts.

Dr. Cullen's cool hands on my cheek, asking me to count to ten.

Angela gently shaking my arm, asking me if I knew where I was. Edward's voice infiltrated my thoughts, too; he sounded gentle and somber, like sad music.

I even had a vague recollection of being stuck in another CT scanning device again, with various voices telling me to lie still. I was too out of it to stay awake for long, anyway, and no sooner had I felt as though I was being blinded by light, I was slipping back into an idyllic darkness.

Ultimately, the darkness flickered into luminous specks, and as the infinitesimal scintilla came together, I found myself floating in a composed, golden pond. The water was sparkling, ornamented in a lavish amber mist. The feeling was warm, secure, and unwavering. I tilted my head back, soaking my hair in the bullion wetness and it ran over my eyes, blinding me for a moment.

As I blinked away the fogginess, I noticed swirls of black hovering in the sky above me, circling like vultures. I flipped to my side, trying to swim away from the ominous figures, but my arms plunged through the mire liquid to no avail. I was suddenly stuck, trapped beneath the spectral shapes that, to my horror, plummeted down and encircled my arms and chest.

I tried to scream, but the golden liquid flooded my mouth. The taste was sour and putrid - no longer lovely. I fought desperately, but the shadows tightened around me and in a vile whisper, his voice came like a haunting memory:

"_Bella_."

I wrenched myself out of sleep and thrashed violently on my bed, feeling my hand forcefully make contact with something, producing a loud slap. Sitting up straight, I gasped, unable to scream, and blinked rapidly in the darkened room, trying to focus on the figure in front of me.

_It couldn't be him._

"Bella? It's okay, it's just me," came a hesitant, silky voice.

Panting in alarm, I made out a thin line of light outlining the curtain across from me and noticed the distant bustling sounds of shuffling feet and rolling wheels. I was still in the hospital, behind the curtain - not drowning in Phil's whiskey and being pulled under by his phantom arms. Edward stood in front of me with one hand on my bed, the other touching his cheek. A stinging pain was coming from my right hand and I dropped my mouth in shock.

I'd smacked him in his gorgeous face.

I stared at him, trying to form the words to apologize, but instead, a pathetic whimper came out of my mouth. Suddenly, I was completely lucid and I remembered _everything_. The drunk men laying their repulsive hands on me back in Port Angeles, breaking away from them, screaming and stumbling (probably into the street), and the blare of a _car horn_. I didn't remember being hit, but the build up was enough to wrack me with enough understanding that I'd had a total fucking freak out.

_Do _not _cry. Do _not _make this freak out number two._

I shrank back down on the bed, trying to calm myself. Edward bridged the gap between us and took my hand, though he kept his body at a distance. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You were dreaming."

"I … I hit you," I said, ashamed.

"Forget me," he said. "You're shaking."

I didn't feel it until he mentioned it, but I was - every part of me was trembling, and my other hand that he wasn't holding was death-gripping my sheets. I looked mental.

"Oh," I said, making an effort to stiffen my muscles. "I'm - it's okay, it was just a dream."

He cast his eyes away from me for a moment, still gripping my hand with both of his. "Sounded like a nightmare with the way you were talking."

I stared at him, confused, then realized what he meant. Sleep talking. _In front of him_. Self-consciousness started to nibble at me and I slowly pulled my hand out of his grasp and clutched my pillow, pushing my cheek into it. I wanted to disappear.

"Bella-"

"What did I say?" I asked in a whisper. "Did I say his name?"

Edward was quiet for a moment, then pulled a chair next to my bed and sat down. He tugged my blanket up higher on my shaky form and sighed. "You mean Phil?"

I let my breath out slowly. "My stepfather," I confirmed. "Well, ex-stepfather. I dream about him sometimes." I raised my eyes to Edward, who was staring at his hands pensively, as if debating on the right thing to say. "I don't have to tell you if you don't want to hear. I don't want to drag you into it."

He finally looked at me with a look of bewilderment. "Stop that, Bella," he said in slight desperation. "I can't stand to see you look like that, like you're not worth anyone's time."

_Me?_

"I - you-" I started, but he cut me off.

"Like I said, forget about me," he continued. "If you don't feel comfortable talking to me, I won't force you. But if it would you make you feel better, thenI want you to. Or I could find Angela. Would you rather talk to her?"

I shook my head. No… I didn't want to talk to Angela. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone, ever. Until _now_. Tears started to well up in my eyes as I realized that I actually was dying to get the whole story off my chest, and the only person I wanted to tell was Edward, someone who I'd known for two days. _Two days_, and he'd somehow broken through the one wall that no one else in my life had sensed that I was hiding behind.

"When Renée and Phil got divorced, it wasn't just because of _their_ problems," I started, getting straight to the point. "I screwed up their last chance almost two years ago."

Edward sat patiently and waited for me to continue.

"When he and Renée started fighting, he started drinking. He was always a casual beer kind-of-guy, but when he started with the liquor, it escalated to a problem within a few weeks. He was never violent, never angry… he just sat around and moped, staring at the TV, the wall, the floor. It was scary. My mom and I watched him slip away, sort of. Renée was a wreck, too - she thought he wasn't willing to work anything out and didn't care about her anymore. And he just dulled his pain with more alcohol.

"I was still living at home, then… I tried to stay out of their way and hoped that they would work it out, eventually. But one night, I came home late and Phil was sitting in the kitchen… and he was _crying_. I knew I couldn't just go upstairs and leave him like that. He was surrounded by bottles and tissues and he just looked miserable. So, I sat down and tried to talk to him… well, mainly, I tried to get him to stop pouring a new glass of Jack every five minutes."

I glanced at Edward and he nodded looking thoughtful. I took a deep breath and went on.

"Anyway… we talked for a long time. He told me he and Renée had a huge argument and she left, saying she wanted him gone by the morning. And then, he just broke down. I hate seeing anyone upset, especially if they're crying, so … I hugged him. I just wanted him to _feel better_… I didn't think he'd-"

I felt unwanted tears suddenly pour down my cheeks and Edward's hands clutched mine again, but I kept speaking, all the same.

"He wouldn't let go," I said, my voice breaking. "I started to step back, but he held on to me and got right in my face. I told him to let me go, but he grabbed my arms and started… touching me. The harder I fought him, the more intense he got. It was like he thought I was playing with him, teasing him. But I was _screaming_… I don't understand how he could have thought that I _liked_ it. Then, he _kissed_ me. " I was shaking again. "He was like another father to me and he was _kissing_ me with his tongue. And then I just lost it and cried for my mom. After he heard me scream her name, he let go.

"And then, he blamed _me_. Like _I'd_ been the one to start it, like I had been giving him looks like I _wanted him_. He - he was in shock, I think. He started apologizing, then accusing me again, and then he finally left."

I shook my head, wetting my pillow with tears, knowing I was probably turning red and puffy-eyed, but I couldn't control myself. I felt tense, my muscles rigid and tight. When Edward reached over and put a comforting hand on my arm, rubbing it up and down, I had a sudden urge to sit up and hug him.

"I cleaned everything up and went to a friend's," I continued, speaking in lieu of launching myself at him. "I was too scared of him coming back or Renée returning and having to face her." I sniffled and wiped my face with my free hand, embarrassed. "I couldn't look at my mom for days. I blamed my mood on school and she accepted it. He eventually came back… but he didn't say anything, so I decided I wouldn't either. Renée begged him to stay again, promising they could work it out, but I think the guilt was eating at him too much. He gave her divorce papers a week later."

Edward exhaled soundly and when I looked at him, he brushed another descending tear off my cheek. "I'm sorry, Bella. You shouldn't have had to go through something like that."

"I don't care about me," I admitted. "My mom was the real victim. She took care of me my whole life, and how do I repay her? By ending two of her marriages."

He straightened a bit and gave me a mystified look. "What are you talking about?"

"I know that I didn't throw myself at Phil," I said, "but he seemed… I don't know, _confident_ that night, like I should have expected it. I've wracked my brain ever since, trying to think of any time that I might have given him the wrong idea." I shrugged my shoulders feebly. "I just feel toxic. I ruined any chance they had at working things out. He left and she was stuck with me - the one to blame - and she had no idea."

Edward ran his hand through his hair and gave me a look between frustration and empathy. "God, you can't possibly blame yourself for something like that. _Phil's_ the one who crossed a line. _You _did nothing wrong."

I hadn't thought about it for so long, and now all the regret and doubt was surfacing faster than I could gracefully keep up with. I tried to appear indifferent, even with tears in my eyes, but my annoying guilty conscience was slowly coming out of its peaceful hibernation, and it was hungry to start with me again.

"Phil never was a bad guy," I found myself blurting out. "I liked him. He made Renée's face light up… he made her feel secure. But then when his schedule changed, he spent less time at home and Renée felt guilty for leaving me by myself, so she stayed with me. I could tell she wanted to be with him so badly, and I pushed her to go … but she was stubborn. It had been the two of us for so long before Phil. I guess she felt an obligation to me."

"You're her daughter. How can you think that's your fault?" he asked, leaning closer to me.

"It's why they started arguing in the first place," I said quietly, still remembering the remorse I'd felt whenever I heard them bring my name into their quarrels.

Edward was quiet, still faintly shaking his head. I could tell he wanted to say more, but I supposed he thought it wasn't his place.

Randomly, I had a brief reminiscence of Charlie chasing me around his muddy lawn with a hose as I screamed in delight, running from the "Spray-Monster" and the cold sprinkle of water. He'd been there to gently pat my shoulder every time he'd have to patch me up from a fall or make an inevitable hospital trip (like tonight) because of my bizarre talent of falling out of trees or from sled-riding down the stairs. He had never _not_ been there for me if I had needed him, or Renée, for that matter. He was the best one of us all.

"She has Charlie now," I said, playing with my fingernails, thinking of the sight of my parents in each other's arms as they had waved goodbye to me. "I think she's even happier than she's ever been. That's why I needed to leave. I didn't want to stick around and be the cause of any more problems."

Edward put his elbows on the bars and laid his head in his hands, sighing. Feeling as though I should change the subject, I reached up and grazed my fingers over his now-bandaged hand. I guess Angela or Dr. Cullen had gotten to him. "So, want to tell me what really happened to your hand? Or are you still sticking with your story of tripping?"

He was silent.

"I remember, now, by the way," I confessed, carefully studying Edward's face. "Did you see them? The men outside the restaurant?"

_That_ got him to look at me with wide eyes. Even though the room was mostly shadowy, it was hard to miss the luminosity radiating from them. "You remember everything?" he asked.

I nodded. "Did you … hit one of them?"

He gave his hand a once-over. "Two of them. Though, the second one was an accident. I was trying to shake him off of me. My hand kind of got in the way of his face."

I would have laughed if he hadn't looked so miserable. He looked at me with such melancholy, I felt the need to offer him a shot of morphine, too. "I'm so sorry," he said softly. "If I hadn't left you, none of this would have happened."

_Oh, for the love of God…_

"You actually think this is your fault?" I asked incredulously. "Edward, I am a magnet for things like this. If we would have both gone for the car, I probably would have fallen through a faulty manhole, or slipped and taken a dive through a plate glass window."

"No, you wouldn't have," he said, raking his hands through his hair.

"Ha," I said, making a snorting noise. "Spend another day with me. I'll probably break a limb within that time, you'll see."

"Well, if I would have let you come with me, you wouldn't be here, having gotten molested by filthy, drunk men and struck by a hydroplaning car," he said scathingly. After a moment, he muttered, "I should have just left you alone."

I blinked, confused. "I thought you were blaming yourself for leaving."

"I meant from the start, not tonight," he said, looking towards the curtain. "If I had just never approached you…"

_Oh._

My heart thumped bleakly at his words, and I was suddenly glad that the lights were off. I curled my hands tighter around the pillow and finally tore my eyes from his face. We were both silent for awhile, and my emotions tore me back and forth: my mind was telling me that he was just sorry this had all happened while my heart shed layers of hope because he had basically just said he wished he'd never met me, conveniently after I had just poured my darkest secret out to him. No _wonder_ he was sorry. I _was_ poison_._

In my periphery (luckily _that_ was still intact), I saw that he was studying me, but I didn't return the gaze. I didn't deserve to look at him the way I had been. I shouldn't have broken my rules. I shouldn't have allowed myself to be so taken in… not with the way I damaged things. Now he felt guilty because of my inevitable knack of completely fucking matters up. _And _he was regretting our entire meeting.

Suddenly, his hand brushed my cheek again, sweeping away the fresh, warm tears that had started falling; I hadn't even noticed. "Bella," he said in a whisper, sounding disheartened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

_Yes, you did, damn you. You intoxicating, ensnaring enigma._

He continued stroking my cheek and I wanted so badly to push him away so I didn't fall any deeper into this … _infatuation_. I couldn't let myself hope that he was beginning to care for me. He'd given me plenty of clues; he'd said them right to my face, even: _You should stay away. I should come with a warning label. I should have just left you alone._ How much plainer could he have been with me?

Eventually, I heard the curtain slide open and a bit of light filled the little area, making me squint at the figure. Dr. Cullen. He studied us for the briefest moment and said, "Should I come back?"

"No," I said, sitting up quickly and wiping my face. I wanted out. I'd had enough drama for one day. "Um … am I allowed to go yet?"

"Well, first, how are you feeling?" Dr. Cullen asked, stepping further inside and flipping on the light switch. Edward immediately moved from my side and walked to stand by the curtain. He looked so desolate that it actually hurt to look at him.

"Better," I said, tearing my eyes away from Edward and focusing on Dr. Cullen's honey-colored eyes. "My head hurts, but that's normal, right?"

"Quite," he said with warmly. He gave me one last neuro-check and smiled with his dazzling teeth. "You're responding well and you're looking much better. Also, you seem very alert, which is good. And _best_, your head CT was clear. So, since Edward has agreed to keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours, I suppose I have no reason to keep you here any longer."

I'd been nodding and full-heartedly agreeing, but snapped my mouth shut at his last sentence. I threw a look at Edward, who looked at me reflectively. I'd bet he was sorry he'd agreed to that after watching me cry like an idiot. But I wanted to get out of there. I could lock him out of my room later.

Untangling a lock of my hair, I said, "Thanks, Dr. Cullen, really. I'm sorry I puked in front of you."

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "No apologies necessary, Bella, it was a pleasure meeting you. Before you go, I'll write you a prescription - you might have some pain tomorrow, so it's necessary for you to take it easy. Only drink liquids for now… try some solid food later on tomorrow evening, perhaps?"

"I know the drill," I said with a grimace. "This isn't my first concussion. I'm kind of an attraction for accidents."

"Well, let's hope not anymore," he said, giving my arm a pat. "Medical talk aside, have you been enjoying your time here?"

_Ha! Do you have a few days to listen?_

"Yeah, it's … different than Jacksonville," I said with a slight smile.

Dr. Cullen seemed to read through the lines and gave me a reassuring look. Good Lord, he was breathtakingly good-looking.

_Stop it, you hooker! Do you remember the last five minutes? Stop pining after the cute ones!_

Luckily, Dr. Cullen had gone on to checking my bandages before he could notice my awestruck stare. I figured it might be best to keep my eyes on my lap until he was finished checking me. He gave me a prescription, a few papers on serious symptoms to look out for, and discharge papers to sign. I quickly scribbled my chicken-scratch signature under his elegant handwriting.

"Well, Bella, you can get dressed and be on your way," said Dr. Cullen in his pleasantly smooth voice. "I'll send Angela in to take out your IV."

I looked down at my hand. Oh, right. Ew.

"Remember to take it easy," Dr. Cullen continued. "Come back if you experience any of those symptoms. And be careful, okay?"

He had a hint of determination in his face when he said 'careful,' but probably just because I just emitted the accident-prone vibe. I nodded and gave him a quiet, "Thank you. I will."

Then, surprisingly, he turned to Edward and clasped him on the shoulder. "Take good care of her, son," he said with even more resolve, giving Edward a long look. "Watch over her."

Edward stared at him with his lachrymose eyes and opened his mouth in reply, but didn't answer right away, seemingly speechless for a moment. He finally nodded tightly. "I will."

Dr. Cullen gave us both a nod of farewell and disappeared through the curtain. Edward turned to look at me and we stared at each awkwardly before he reached down by his chair and pulled the same bag up that he had first come in with.

"I brought you a change of clothes," he said timidly. "I put your wet ones out in my car, so don't worry about them."

I reached out and took the bag from him and looked inside. I started to dig and my eyes widened in dismay as I saw my pair of penguin-printed underwear stuck under a pair of jeans.

"Wha - you-" I stuttered, unable to form a comprehensible reaction. I felt my face flush furiously and I quickly pulled the bag to my chest, as though that would suddenly make him forget what he had packed.

"I - I just grabbed the first things I saw," he said in haste. "I know I didn't have your permission, but I figured-"

"_My penguin panties?_" I sputtered.

He looked mortified. "I didn't really _look_, Bella, I just grabbed some clothes. Honest."

In the next moment, the curtain swung open and Angela breezed inside. "Hi," she said with a smile, then got a puzzled look on her face at the sight of me kneeling on my bed, red-faced and clutching a plastic bag like I had successfully contained a vicious animal. "Getting out of here, finally, huh?" she asked uncertainly.

"I'll wait in the lobby," Edward said, and practically flew out into the hallway.

Angela watched him depart and then looked back at me. "Is everything okay?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Just … it was a long day."

She smiled in sympathy and closed the curtain with a flick of her wrist, turning away and giving me privacy as I quickly pulled all the sticky circles off of my chest and changed back into my clothes. I slowed my movements when I saw my black hoodie at the bottom of the bag, under my purse. It was unnatural how intuitive he was, as I'd been longing for it earlier that evening, before the chaos. I slipped it on, comforted by the soft material, and sat down on the bed.

"Okay. I'm ready," I told Angela.

She turned around and gave me a smirk. "You look terrified. I'm not even sticking you. I'm taking something out."

"It's not the pinch, it's the blood," I said, the anticipation already causing me to feel unsettled. "I don't like the look of it… the smell of it."

"The _smell_? You can smell blood?" Angela said giggling, holding a piece of gauze over my hand. "Bella Swan, the blood-fearing vampire. Sounds like a comic book character."

I looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Sorry," she said with a grin, and pulled the IV catheter out swiftly. She pressed the gauze into my hand and I watched a little red blot appear over the white fibers. I turned my face away, feeling dizzy, cursing myself for even looking. She taped a large, ugly beige band-aid over it soon after. "Just keep pressure on it for a bit."

I nodded and swung my legs back and forth, eager to get up and get _out_ already.

Angela picked up another plastic package containing a small vial. "So, would you like a flu shot?" she asked with a teasing grin, purposefully sounding like an infomercial saleswoman. "They're free and they come with a high protection agent to battle this year's bug. They're very popular this season."

I opened my mouth to say '_hell no_,' but I ended up thinking about it for a moment. I'd already had two head injuries. I might as well ward off illness while I could. Maybe it was the slight adrenaline rush I'd gotten, knowing I was about to leave, but something in me allowed me to say, "Yeah … okay. Stick me. Before I change my mind."

"Hmm," she said, spinning the packet around in her fingers. "Somehow, I thought I'd get a different reaction out of you. Seriously?"

I shrugged and rolled up my sleeve. "I still feel a little numb from the morphine. I might as well take advantage of it. Besides, I've been prodded all evening… what's one more time?"

Angela shook her head lightly and gave me a smile as she rubbed my arm with an alcohol pad. "Close your eyes."

I did so, and winced at the stinging pinch. Angela placed a pink band-aid over the little puncture and gave my arm a pat. "To match your face when you're around Edward," she said playfully.

"Oh, ha ha," I said, rubbing my arm. But damn it all, she was right.

I adamantly refused a wheelchair and walked with Angela through the hallway, out into the lobby. Edward was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his head tilted back with his eyes closed. His hair was disheveled, but his whole stance looked as though he was posing for a magazine cover. Or, maybe it was the drugs in my system, creating a photo shoot fantasy right before my eyes.

Angela nudged me and smirked. _Get him,_ her expression read. I elbowed her back, signifying, _No way, you do it._

Playfully rolling her eyes, Angela reached forward and tapped Edward's shoulder. He jerked forward, startled, but composed himself quickly, and stepped forward to take everything I was holding without a word. I relinquished my armload of papers and the bag, figuring that he was still going to be a gentleman whether he was sorry he'd met me or not. I turned to Angela and gave her a hug, eternally grateful for everything she had done that evening. She promised she would come by the next day to see how I was doing before heading back to work.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Edward asked in a hesitant voice, "You okay?"

I kind of felt like crap, but I only nodded, content to keep my mouth shut. It had only gotten me in trouble so far. As we quietly walked out and through the hospital's parking lot, Edward suddenly stopped me.

"I have to say something," he said, a slightly anxious look appearing on his face.

I sighed and rolled my eyes sleepily. "Edward, it's okay that you brought me underwear." _Even my stupid cartoon pair._ "Smart, even. I don't know if I would have even remembered."

His eyebrows creased and he shifted his weight. "It's not about … that."

He cleared his throat, looking frustrated with himself. He put his hands on my shoulders and then slowly slid one hand behind my neck so that his thumb was rubbing my cheek. I stared at him, confused, almost shivering at the chills that were traveling through my skin. _Why_ did he have to touch me so … _perfectly_?

"I'm not sorry that I met you," he said quietly, but firmly. "I didn't mean to insinuate the wrong thing. I say things before I think sometimes, and I … I don't know, feel _responsible_ for what happened to you tonight. I just - I hope you'll forgive me."

My legs trembled the slightest bit. "You don't have to say anything you don't mean. I'm stronger than you think," I said softly.

"I can see that, but I already told you," he said faintly, his eyes glowing like liquid temptation. "I'm becoming more attached to you by the minute… it's unprecedented for me. And hardly courteous to tell you so soon."

_Holy shit. Breathe._

"Your eyes are kind of astonishing, you know," I said, exhaling and feeling my face heat. "You should wear sunglasses when you say things like that."

He glanced downward, showing the enticing length of his eyelashes, and he chuckled. "If you only knew, Bella."

Without an explanation to go along with his comment, _of course_, he put his hand on my back and led me to the car. He tossed my bag in the backseat before opening the passenger door, hovering over me like a mother hen as I got in, helping me sit and placing his hand above my head in case I bumped it. We were on our way back to the lodge before I knew it, and I found myself surprised that my eyelids felt heavy again. The low volume of classical music was soothing.

"Hey… weren't you supposed to play the piano tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Don't worry, I called Doris earlier in the car, right before the accident."

"You have Doris's phone number?"

"Well, I have the lodge's number. I looked it up a while ago in the Forks' directory. All twenty pages of it."

I snickered, then turned my attention back to the music. It made me sleepy. I rolled my head to the side, letting it droop a bit, and closed my eyes.

"Bella?" came Edward's voice with a hint of panic.

"I'm just tired," I said, opening my eyes to show him I was alive. "Really, I'm fine."

He sighed. "I hope so."

"You know, I never thanked you for today," I said, looking up at him.

He chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, you're so welcome for the concussion, Bella. It was my pleasure."

I scoffed, knowing it was useless to argue with him anymore. "I _meant _for taking me out. I had fun today. And I haven't really had _fun_ in … I honestly don't remember how long."

"Me either," he said quietly, then surprised me by smiling a bit. "I had fun, too."

"So, thank you," I said. "For breakfast, for dinner… for the beach, the postcards-"

_Oh, shit._

I glanced at him apologetically. "Or not. I'm sorry. I must have dropped them, somewhere…"

He looked almost amused at my regret. "They were just _postcards_. You look like you just lost my dog. Besides, I rescued them," he said with a grin. "They're in my glove compartment. I'll get them for you later."

"Well, aren't you the hero today," I said airily, sitting up and reaching for the glove box. "You punch my assailants… you save my postcards from drowning…"

"No, Bella-" he said quickly, stretching his arm out to stop me, but I clicked the glove compartment open before he could reach me. My little bag of postcards slid into my hand, but I wasn't quick enough to catch a small black case that fell out; I was too busy staring at a pack of cigarettes that slowly slid into view.

"I didn't know you smoked," I said, giving him a curious look.

"I don't," he said, sounding strange as he stared at the floor where the little case had fallen. I noticed that the car had slowed. "Not anymore."

Feeling as though I had suddenly invaded a whole new level of his privacy, I stuck the cigarettes back into the far corner of the glove box and reached for the black case I had dropped.

"_Don't touch that_," he said sharply, startling me. I jerked my hands away and snapped straight back into my seat, sending a swirl of shooting pain through my head as I hit it against the head rest.

_Ahh. Ow._

I closed my eyes at the feeling of dizziness and blindly reached out to push the glove box shut. I turned towards the window, embarrassed, and curled up a bit. "Sorry," I nearly whispered, the tone of his voice still slicing through me.

His breath was audible, intermittent, as if he was pausing to say something, but he never did. I stayed in the same position, trying to keep the nausea at bay; even the smooth ride of the Volvo didn't help the twists and turns of Forks' roads, especially when Edward increased his speed again.

_Don't you dare get sick in his stupid, shiny car._

I concentrated on breathing, and after a few minutes, I fortunately felt his car go up a familiar hill. We were in the lodge's parking lot before I could force my eyes open.

As I struggled to coax myself to sit up straight, Edward had already exited the car and was pulling open the passenger door, looking guilt-ridden again.

Yeah, what else was new? His moods changed like the fucking time of day. I undid my seat belt with clumsy fingers and when he reached down to help me, I couldn't help but mutter, "I can do it myself."

He stepped back and let me stand on my own. I clutched my postcards in my hand and leaned against his car to get my balance as Edward grabbed my bag out of the back.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said quietly.

I didn't answer; I was too pissed at myself for getting my feelings hurt like a vulnerable little kindergartner. I took a few steps and stumbled, still wobbly from the dizziness, but Edward caught me before I could fall over. Silently, he placed his arm around my back and I thickly swallowed my pride and allowed myself to be led to the door without protest. I breathed a sigh of relief as the door chimed upon our entrance, and I was grateful to see that everyone had gone to their rooms for the evening.

"Oh, _Isabella_!"

Well, almost everyone. I turned my head to see Doris drop a handful of papers on her desk and scurry around to the front.

"Good heavens, dear, look at you!" she cried as she made her way over to Edward and I. "Are you all right? What did the doctor say? _Look_ at your head. Are you-"

"I'm fine, Doris," I said, giving her what I could manage of a smile.

She grabbed me out of Edward's grasp and pulled me to her chest, rocking back and forth, which definitely did not help my current feeling of vertigo. Thankfully, Edward set his hands on my shoulders and spoke quickly.

"I think I should see that Bella gets to bed, Doris," he said, holding me up as I backed away from her, unsteady on my feet. "She's had a long day. Doctor's orders."

"Oh, of course, dear," she said, giving me a pat on the arm. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'm right down past the dining hall. Mr. Masen, you know where my door is, don't you?"

"Yes," said Edward. "I'll come get you if there's a problem."

"Sorry I stole your entertainment for the evening, Doris," I said, pointing to Edward.

Doris smiled knowingly and winked at me. "Oh, I'm sure he was in the right place."

_And let the meddling begin…_

"You should have seen him, Isabella," Doris continued, giving Edward a teasing glance. "Completely panicked. And you usually have such a composed manner, Mr. Masen - you made me think there was a grizzly bear in the parking lot with the way you ran through that door."

"Sorry," I mumbled to Edward, though I was secretly pleased at the thought of him all worked up over me. He shifted his eyes to the floor.

"I'm so glad you're okay, dear," said Doris, giving my hands a squeeze. "Go get some rest. And remember, whatever you need-"

"Thanks, Doris," I said, appreciative. "I'll see you tomorrow."

After Doris busied herself behind her desk again, Edward led me to the stairs and I stopped… and stared. Four flights. _Damn it_.

"Just, uh … give me a minute," I said. "I just need to…" _Build an elevator_.

Edward's eyes went from me to the stairs and back to me, as I leaned on the banister, letting my head fall onto my hands. I closed my eyes, thinking that I would start climbing once the room stopped spinning.

"May I?" he asked.

I peeked up at him. _May you what? Shed the mask you put on? Act normal? Take off your shirt? Yes, you may. _"Huh?"

He put his hand on my back and pulled me close to him. "Come here," he said, and fluidly lifted me into his arms, cradling me like a small child. I gave a little gasp in surprise and stared into his unusually emerald-colored eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded silently and laid my head against his chest, hoping to hide the inevitable flush that was coming. Even in my shaky state, I was still very human and my female hormones hadn't been hindered by the days' events; his body felt _incredible_. He was warm, solid, protective… in other words, heavenly. I clung to him, enjoying the feel of his muscles under his shirt as he carried me up all four flights of stairs. Shockingly, he wasn't even winded when we got to the top. He set me down gently, steadied me, and pulled my room key out of his pocket.

"Doris gave it to me earlier when I was getting your purse," he explained. I nodded, still a little dazed from being in his arms. When he opened the door, I had a torn moment between collapsing straight into bed and going to the bathroom. My bladder felt like it would explode at any minute and I definitely needed to brush my teeth after earlier events: breakfast, dinner, vomiting in front of a cute doctor...

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," I said, making up my mind to be hygienic. "You don't have to stay, you know."

"Yes, I do," he said adamantly, although looking a tad nervous. "I can imagine that all you want to do is kick me out. But I promised I would look after you, and I'm going to."

I pouted slightly, knowing that he was obligated and would have probably pitched it to his room if that weren't the case. "Okay, fine," I said, deciding not to press the matter.

Without looking at him, I dug in one of my duffel bags for some pajamas and sulkily went into the bathroom. I had to hold back a gasp of horror when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was starkly pale, peaked, and adorned with large white bandage over the left side of my head, a bruise on my cheek, and still carrying the old blue bruise over my eyebrow.

I was hideous.

I shook my head and decided it didn't matter; everyone had already seen me. A few minutes later, I walked back out - empty bladder, minty-fresh breath, face washed, and clad in a t-shirt and blue cotton shorts. Fortunately, I'd remembered to shave my legs that morning.

Edward stood by the door and stared at me. Like _stared _at me.

"What?" I asked, feeling self-conscious and turning to look behind me.

Shaking his head, he averted his gaze. "I-" He cleared his throat. "I was going to go get something to drink. You should have some water or juice - that's what the paper says. Which would you like?"

"Juice is fine," I said, shrugging. He nodded and quickly walked out the door, closing it behind him.

He was so damn inexplicable. From his tendency to blame himself to the unexplained package in his car, to his stares of wonder… I'd have to think about it in the morning. My mind was too tired to reflect on things anymore. I sighed and climbed into bed, a low moan of relief breaking through my lips as my face touched the pillow; it smelled like lemons and fresh air. I stayed in the same position, eyes closed, until I heard the door open. Edward came inside, his hair falling into his eyes, and he closed the door with his foot. He had two plastic cups in his hands and he brought one over to me.

"Apple juice," he said. "I never really got a chance to give it to you earlier."

I gave him a small smile. "Yeah… Angela's a crafty one. I didn't want you to see me like that."

He walked over to my lamp and turned it on, then flipped the light switch on the wall, causing the chandelier to go dark. The room was only dimly lit with an orange glow now; it was pretty. "I wouldn't have cared." He pulled my desk chair over to the side of my bed and sat down.

"_I_ would have," I said, sipping my juice, suddenly feeling parched. I almost drank the entire cup before I figured I should stop rather than have an upchuck encore. "Thanks for this. Let me guess… you're drinking coffee?"

He nodded, swirling his cup. "Iced. It was leftover."

I jokingly wrinkled my nose and placed my cup on the night table, and snuggled back down into bed. "You're really going to sit there? All night?"

"Of course," he said. "Where else would I go?"

"Your bedroom? Honestly, Edward, you look exhausted. You don't have to sit here and watch me. Nothing's going to happen. It's going to be boring and quiet. Well, unless I start talking in my sleep, which you've already heard me do, and once was embarrassing enough."

He rolled his cup in his hands. "I'll leave if you order me to. Until then, I'm staying. You might as well close your eyes and think about it."

I involuntarily yawned and decided not to argue anymore. "All right. Please go sleep if you need to, though. If I wake up and you're not here, I won't be offended."

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Close your eyes, Bella. I'll be here if you need me."

I sighed heavily, taking in one last, long gaze of his beautiful form to burn into my memory, and closed my eyes, thinking that if I was going to dream tonight, it had better be about something nice. And, hopefully, my mouth would behave.

-:-

**Is anyone still alive after all that? God, I hope I didn't bore you to tears!**

**Forgive Bella for being a little out of it this chapter-concussions, emotional roller coasters, and morphine will do that to you. I promise some answers about Edward are coming soon. I've gotten multiple messages asking what his deal is, and I swear I won't hold back for too much longer. **

**Also, to everyone who's reviewed, sent me messages, favorited, rec'd this (thanks poetrytoprose and dihenydd!) and whatever else-really, you guys are the best. I have laughed and smiled through each message! Thank you, truly.**

**Songs that got me through this, and I think could relate to this chapter: "Masochist" by Ingrid Michaelson, "Le Onde" by Ludovico Einaudi, and "The Name of the Game" (I like the Mamma Mia movie version *blush* don't judge me.) Anyway, the link for my playlist is on my profile and you can find them all on there if you want to give them a listen.**

**So...questions, comments? You know how much I want to hear about it. :)**


	10. Pillow Talk

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I own two hands and an apple, so I technically can recreate its cover and call it mine…right?**

**Emilie Fauve. You kick more ass than slow mo doves and Mother Grandma. Thanks for your help and awesome beta'ing. **

**Special thanks to the ladies over on Ravelry who have taken it upon themselves to actually make a thread for this story (ahem…Maylin!)-you all are too cool! Thank you again to poetrytoprose for pimping this out over on Lion_Lamb Livejournal…I'm indebted to you, honey! Also, to my Red Bull inducer, Hayley: please, please, please make a profile so I can respond to you! I get so sad that I can't answer you right away like I'd like to! Just know that I loved your review and you made me smile times 100. Thank you, sweetie.**

**And I'll shut up now.**

-:-

I wasn't entirely sure what woke me first. The dull ache that was pulsing in my head…the sound of thunder rumbling outside…or the realization that my pillow had somehow transformed into a warm, firm, moving entity. But as my eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in the dim light of the room, I widened them in disbelief as I realized that I had my arm literally wrapped around someone's warm body and my head was resting on top of them.

My fingers were curled into black material and I realized that the movement I felt was slow breathing…a chest rising and falling…

_I'm dreaming._

But as I tensed, thinking that there was absolutely no chance of being wrapped up next to him, I heard him clear his throat quietly. "Hi," came Edward's voice, and I tilted my head back so that I was staring at him…only inches away from his enlivening face.

"Hi," I whispered breathlessly. "You're…in my bed."

He chuckled, curling his arm behind his head and leaning up a bit. "I knew I would end up having to explain myself. I figured you weren't going to remember."

I blinked unfocusedly, trying to go back and pinpoint the moment when he'd gotten into bed with me. How could I forget something like _that?_ But my mind was blank…oh, God. I hoped I hadn't developed some sort of sleep_walking_ talent to go along with my unconscious lexis. What if I had gotten out of bed and completely launched myself at him in some kind of promiscuous onslaught? Maybe he'd had to physically hold me down to keep me from _doing things_ to him until I exhausted myself.

_I would never…would I?_

I gave him a combined look of perplexity and embarrassment. "What did I do?" I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hear the answer to that, but my curiosity outweighed my hesitation. I suddenly was very aware that I was still settled on top of his chest. Also, I wasn't all the way convinced that this wasn't a side effect-a hallucination of some sort-from my injury. Though, if I was having a fantasy illusion, I would have imagined him under the covers with me-not on top of them, as he was now.

"Well…Dr. Cullen told me to wake you every few hours to make sure you didn't have any new symptoms," he said. "And you seemed fine, but…well, I was leaning over you and you grabbed my shirt. Then, you…kind of…pulled me in."

_You little slumber-whore! _I quickly extracted my fingers from his shirt, which I had still been clutching, and pushed myself up so I wasn't sprawled over him anymore. He followed suit, raising himself up on his elbows.

"I-I'm sorry," I said, feeling my face flush. As I turned my head to give him an apologetic look, a small breath barely escaped my lips as our eyes met…if we had been any closer, our vision would have probably blurred. Seconds ticked by at a tarry pace as we stared at each other and I could feel the proverbial magnetism between us. What kept my gaze secured for so long was the way he was looking _back_ at me, as if he was just as enamored as I was…and then I grew paranoid, thinking that I was bleeding through my bandage or something equally gross. Maybe he was staring in shock, not captivation. But I couldn't move to inspect myself…I was immersed in him. The way his hair was boyishly falling into his eyes made my hand twitch slightly with a craving to reach up and brush it away. I was aching to caress his face, just to see what it felt like…

"It's okay," he said, suddenly breaking his gaze and sliding away from me and off the bed, taking his warmth with him. I settled back down on the mattress and looked at the plain, white sheets…this was much less exciting. I reluctantly propped myself up on a few pillows, lying on my stomach, and watched as he took a seat in the chair he had last been sitting in. "You were somewhat restless-dreaming, I suppose. I don't think you were aware of it."

I narrowed my eyes, hoping that he was attributing my reddened cheeks to the glow of the room. "What time is it?" I asked, still feeling groggy.

"A little after four-thirty," he said, looking at his watch. I studied him carefully; while he looked magnanimously appealing, of course, he also appeared incredibly enervated. It hadn't been a long night for only me, after all. He'd been the one playing chauffeur, babysitter, messenger, and even Prince Charming, having carried my incapable ass up the stairs-all four flights of them.

I sighed. "Edward, you've got to sleep."

"I will," he answered with a shrug. "In about eighteen more hours."

"That's ridiculous," I mumbled, rolling over to retrieve my apple juice. I took a few sips, not even caring that it was now warm and not the least bit refreshing. "I hereby relieve you of this monotonous requirement that you got yourself into. Get some sleep."

Edward stretched his arms and ignored my declaration. "Do you want some more juice?"

I pouted and put my face into my pillow. "No, thank you," I mumbled through the material. I heard him laugh quietly-and no wonder; I was being childish. I rested my head on the pillow normally and looked over at him, observing his expression.

"Aren't you going back to sleep?" he asked after I had stared at him for a few moments.

"No," I answered, even though I probably could have easily done so. "I want to know what I said."

"What you said?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"I can tell by the look on your face that I was talking in my sleep," I said. He looked much too vigilant, not to mention entertained, for only watching me sleep for five _silent_ hours. "What did I say?"

"Hmm," he said, reaching up to run his hands through his tawny hair. "Quite a bit. I think you may have even recited a poem at one point."

"I _what_?" I gasped, my mouth going dry.

Edward smirked at my reaction and shook his head. "I'm kidding," he said softly. "You were mostly quiet. You mentioned your mom a few times…and Charlie." He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his neck absentmindedly; he wasn't telling me everything.

"What else?" I asked, feeling my fingers involuntarily tighten around my pillow. I watched nervously as his forehead creased, as if he was deliberating in his mind.

"You said my name."

_There it is. Good job, Swan, you've now crossed over to the dark side. Hope you enjoy indignity._

"Oh." _A little more than 'oh' would be helpful, stupid! _"Sorry…does that make you uncomfortable?"

He tilted his head to the side and gave me a look between confusion and amusement. "You're actually serious, aren't you?" He chuckled as I stared blankly in return, not understanding why he thought I wouldn't be. "After all I've said to you, Bella, hearing you say my name out loud isn't exactly unnerving for me. It's hardly a cause for an apology."

I shrugged. "I don't know…that would probably freak most people out."

He leaned forward in his chair, appearing curious. "If I said your name in my sleep…would that make you uncomfortable?"

_No, it would make me fall backwards and have an orgasm._

I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. "No," I said quietly. "It would make me feel…"

_Incredibly privileged. Cosmically treasured. Indomitably aroused._

Edward waited with questioning eyes as I thought it over. _Damn it, swallow the shy bunny and say what you mean-libido aside. _"Accepted," I finished, feeling fire spread throughout my cheeks.

He narrowed his eyes and pondered my answer, his eyes swimming in consideration. As I watched, I found it difficult to take in a full breath of air and started to forget pieces of our conversation. I had minored in psychology, but couldn't recall any kind of syndrome that caused a person to be physically or emotionally incapacitated by someone else's _eyes_, for Christ's sake.

He finally spoke, thankfully drawing me out of his spell. "You don't think I accept you." It was a statement, not a question.

I filled my lungs, just to be safe, and let the air out slowly. "Well, maybe in some moments you do. Other times…no."

He seemed perturbed by my response. "Only moments?"

My cheeks continued to burn. "I mean…you have weak moments where you let your guard down and actually let me in. The other times, you'll speak to me, but it's as if you have a shield up. Like last night…you were so honest and open one minute, and then pushing me away from you in the next. I know you said you were protective of yourself…but I guess I don't understand why you think you have to protect yourself from me."

Edward considered that, nodding slightly. I supposed I wasn't telling him anything that was surprising. "I…I've been trying, Bella," he said. "I told you that I don't let people in easily…and with you, I've given more than I'm used to…it's not that I don't trust you, it's-" He sighed, unable to find the words that would adequately complete his thoughts.

"I understand," I said honestly. "But I'm not going to hurt you, you know." _Well, let's not be too confident, Bella Swan-dive. _"Unless I accidentally spill coffee on you. Or trip over something and stab you with a fork."

For a split second, his pretense faltered and he cracked a smile, no doubt picturing me stumbling over my own feet yet again-dishes flying and people lunging for cover. But within the next second, he put his fist to his mouth and his eyes returned to their ambiguous status.

"God, Edward, you confuse the hell out of me," I confessed bluntly. "What is that _about_, anyway?"

He looked up quickly, undoubtedly surprised by my sudden change of tone. "What?" he asked, his green eyes suddenly shining again.

"You called me out for acting like a martyr, so now I'm calling you out," I said, shifting my position in bed so I was on my side, facing him without effort. "It's as if you only let yourself smile to a small extent, as though it's a privilege, not a freedom. But sometimes you slip-and you light up completely. Your eyes, your face…and I can see that it's _you_. But then it's as if you remember that you're not allowed to be happy, and all of your contentment collapses back inside of you like a black hole-like it's supposed to be locked up."

His eyes were on the floor as I finished speaking and he had his arms tucked tightly across his chest. I had either offended him or was exactly right.

"You're doing it right now," I pointed out. "So…why?"

He stared at the ground for awhile longer, than looked up at me with his bewitching eyes…and I knew his response immediately. He didn't have one. I rested my head on my pillow, sighing lightly. His words from the previous day echoed in my mind. …_Be patient with me…_

Well, I wasn't exactly a saint. I needed _something_ from him…anything, really. "Can I ask you a question? Just one?"

He began his habitual hand-in-the-hair routine and he said in a thick voice, "You're entitled to that."

There were so many; it was nearly impossible to choose. I decided to go with the one that had crossed my mind the most. "What were you dreaming about the night we met?"

I didn't think it was possible, but his expression turned even more desolate. His hand fell into his lap and he started wringing his hands together. After clearing his throat, he said, "A kid who used to live on my old street. He died a little over a year ago."

"Oh," I said quietly, after a moment. "I'm sorry." I felt guilty for making him look so forlorn, but I was now brimming with more questions. _But you told him you'd only ask one, damn you and your quick mouth._

Edward rubbed at his eyes again, looking very tired. "I didn't know him very well…his face just haunts me sometimes."

The longer I looked at him, the stronger the urge got to pull him into my bed again, consciously this time, and just _hold_ him. I'd never seen someone so in need of a hug in my life-that included Renée during the time of her second divorce, and I'd never thought I'd find someone to surpass her. I was in the process of pushing myself up so I could get out of bed-to do God knows what-when he spoke.

"You should try to go back to sleep," he said, straightening his back. "A few more hours would be beneficial for you."

Change of subject. Conversation over. _Of course_.

"I will if you will," I said, feeling disheartened. I lowered myself back down on my bed-once again, he had beat me to the chase.

"I'll be fine." Edward lifted his head up, suddenly determined to appear in control and less discouraged.

I placed some of the pillows back on their original side of the bed and pulled my blankets back up. "You know, this is a big bed," I said matter-of-factly, smoothing the sheets. Edward raised his eyebrows and stared at me until I finally comprehended that my inward brain-to-mouth filter clearly had a malfunction. I had just sounded completely suggestive when I was actually trying to innocently indicate that there was room for him if he wanted it.

_You sound like a hooker! Fix it!_

"I-I mean, you can lay down if you want to. Not against your will this time. I'll stay on my side, I promise. I just don't want you to get a stiff neck or…something. You've got to be sore from sitting there. I mean-"

_Just put your fucking foot in your mouth and roll over already. Maybe he'll correlate it to your concussion. Just stop talking, you yakking idiot._

"I'm okay, but thank you," said Edward faintly. If he was slighted or amused or even surprised, he wasn't showing it.

"Okay," I said quickly, embarrassed, and started to position myself more snugly under the comforter.

"Do you mind if I-?" He gestured toward the stack of books sitting on the desk. I hadn't yet returned them to Doris's bookcases.

"Oh, no," I said, supposing that he was going to continue to be stubborn and stay awake. "Help yourself. They might not be your kind of thing, but…sure."

"Thanks," he said, picking the first book off the top of the pile-Robert Frost. "Do you need anything?"

_What a loaded question. I need you to put that book down and freaking sleep, for one. Second, I need you to tell me what the hell has got you wound up to the point of an impending mental breakdown. And third, I need to stop **obsessing**__ over you._

"No," I mumbled, rolling over so I wasn't facing him. I hugged my pillow again and tried to relax, though it was difficult with the lamp light right in my eyes. "You should read over here where you can see." I wouldn't have exactly minded him in my eye line where I could peek at him, either.

"I'm fine," he replied softly.

_Of course you are. You're always just fucking peachy, aren't you?_

We were both silent for a long time. I listened to him flip a few pages of the book once in awhile and adjust his posture in the chair. I didn't move or look back…I just stayed still with my eyes closed, as images of his afflicted eyes went through my mind, troubling me. As my eyelids finally grew heavy, I gave a little sigh, wondering how different things would seem when I woke up again. It was hard to guess.

Just before I drifted off, I could have sworn I heard an angelic voice murmur, "Goodnight, Bella…"

-:-

_Tylenol. Now._

I'd been woken by an irksome, phantom finger that was prodding my brain. My head was begging for aid and throwing up a white flag in surrender as my eyelids cracked open.

_Drugs. Get them._

I groaned and stretched, relieved to see that my room was now filled with daylight instead of just the lamp's glow. Also, I was pleased to find that the rest of my body was only feeling somewhat sore-nothing like my head. But at least I'd be able to walk straight…I hoped, anyway. As I got out of bed, I switched my lamp off and ran my hand through my messy hair, thinking that I was in desperate need of a shower…and then I stopped short at what I saw.

Stupidly, I'd forgotten that Edward was still in the room. Usually, upon seeing him without warning, I would have gotten all heated and my girly emotions would have started to run wild, but _now…_I just wanted to laugh.

He was half-curled up in the wooden chair-one leg on the floor and one loosely pulled to his chest. He had one arm resting across the back edge of the chair and his head was face down into the crook of it, while his other arm hung freely in front of him, as if pointing down to the book of poems that lay abandoned at his feet. He was asleep…and positively _adorable_.

My pain suddenly forgotten, I soundlessly tiptoed across the room to unplug my phone from its charger, then went back to where I had been standing. Unable to help myself, I snapped a quick picture of him and bit my lip to stop from giggling. I was _so_ Jessica Stanley right now.

_Do I wake him up? Do I let him sleep?_

As cute as he looked, his position didn't appear to be very comfortable-especially in a hard, wooden chair. I would have let him stay there if I hadn't thought that he would develop a muscle spasm at some point. I tapped him on the shoulder gently, afraid that he would awake with a start and fall off the chair, but he didn't even move.

"Edward?" I said quietly, rubbing his arm. "Wake up…"

To my relief, he woke slowly and moaned quietly as he lifted his head. He looked up at me, blinking drowsily. "Bella?" he said, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," I said, smiling. "I see you took my advice…though, I think a bed would have been more appropriate."

He uncurled his position quickly and took a short breath, looking surprised. "I…can't believe I did that. I'm sorry."

I shook my head with a scoff. "Geez, Edward, falling asleep…how _dare_ you?" I said sarcastically.

"I was supposed to be watching you," he said, rubbing his eyes. As he did so, I noticed a small bruise on his cheek and my mouth parted with a gasp. "What?" he said, suddenly anxious. "Are you all right?"

I reached out and touched his cheek; it was only a tap, but I was barely able to ignore the blissful sensation that I _finally_ had a reason to touch his face. "I-I forgot I hit you last night…I gave you a bruise." I was appalled at myself.

"Oh," said Edward, looking faintly amused. "Yeah, you have a hell of a backhand."

"I'm _sorry_," I said, feeling like I had just committed a mortal sin for having given his marvelous countenance a blemish.

He surprised me once again by laughing…that honeyed, melodious laugh. "Bella, _honestly_. Stop looking so ashamed of yourself. You certainly didn't do it on purpose and it doesn't even hurt."

I grimaced, still feeling like a complete idiot. "I'll stop apologizing if you do."

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "All right, deal," he said, offering me his hand.

I took it, this time unable to disregard the pleasing chills that shot through me. "Deal," I repeated, then couldn't help but giggle at the state of his hair. It was sticking up in chaotic disarray and made him look slightly comical…though, it didn't stop him from looking unbearably sexy. "Your hair…" I said, reaching out and smoothing down his soft, unkempt locks.

"_Your_ hair," he replied with a chuckle. "You look like you've been electrocuted."

"Yeah, well, you look like the Statue of Liberty."

He grinned-a true, breathtaking smile that made my legs weak. I was fully baffled by our black and white game. We bounced from being so gravely serious to being so warmly lighthearted almost too quickly; we were like the ball in a tennis match. An emotional, roller-coaster-like tennis match. But I would take his smile while it lasted, knowing that it would too soon be covered by a frown.

"I suppose I could use a shower," he said, standing up slowly. I watched with wide eyes as he stretched his arms and I got the smallest glimpse of his waist from under his shirt. He was getting in the shower…with that _body_…in his room which was only a measly number of feet away from me. I'd never hated _walls_ so much.

"Yeah, me too," I managed to squeak out as fantasy images of the both of us in the shower together flitted through my mind. I could almost _feel_ myself in the muggy steam, pressed up against him…the water spilling over our bodies in a heated rush as he enveloped me in his arms and ambitiously kissed my neck…my hands undoubtedly pursuing the rest of his body in a fevered craze, locking my fingers in his hair and wrapping my leg around his, pushing into him until every part of our bodies were touching _completely…_

I hit the desk sideways and grabbed at the surface to steady myself as Edward grabbed my other side in panic. "Bella?" he cried, sliding his arm under mine, holding me so that I wouldn't fall. "Are you okay? Look at me!"

I looked up at him in surprise, my heart pulsating as though it would break free from my chest and scream in liberty. Had I really just imagined that in front of him? The very thought had literally made me dizzy with desire; I had actually _swayed_ on my feet. I had only known that to happen in fairy tales; what a fucked up fairy tale this was! Cinderella didn't have frisky pants and fantasy shower thoughts about the prince and an albatross of injuries. To add on to my mortification, my temperature had just soared to new heights and I knew the color of my face was tattling on me like a whiny school kid.

_Edwaaard! Bella's being a nymphomaaaniac! Look at her bluuushing!_

But luckily, Edward didn't seem to notice. He was grabbing my face with his hands and staring into my eyes, as if he were searching for treasure. "Look at me," he continued. "What's my name?"

_Reserve that question for when we're in bed, please._ I mentally slapped my sassy voice and stared back at him in confusion. "Wha-huh?" I responded, still trying to shoo away thoughts of him naked…and his pretty-boy eyes were not helping matters any.

"Do you remember my name? Do you know what day it is?" he asked, still tightly grasping me around my back.

"Y-yeah," I managed to say. "It's Sunday, Edward. Why? What are you looking at?"

"I'm checking your pupils." He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "Are you okay? You're not going to pass out?"

_Oh_. He thought I was having concussion complications! _Ha_! I laughed nervously and regained my balance as I stepped away from him and the desk. "I'm fine, I promise," I said, willing the blood to withdraw from my cheeks. "I just had a head rush."

He stepped forward and took a hold of my arm again. "Are you sure? You were only standing there and then started to fall."

"Yeah, that happens to me even when I _don't_ have a concussion," I said, dismissing his concern and hoping his gorgeous eyes would stop penetrating through me before I had another 'head rush.' "Honestly, I'm okay-I'll prove it."

I stood with my back straight, head up, and feet together, hoping that I would not fall over. "My name is Bella Swan. My birthday is September thirteenth. Your name is Edward Masen and I met you in the hallway in my pajamas when I was bleeding from the head. And as weird as that sounds, I think we might have become friends, regardless. And I've made it through saying this without falling. Is that good enough for you?"

As he watched me, his expression wavered between worry and amusement. "You're going to give me a heart attack," he said, running his hand over his eyes. "As long as you're sure…"

I sighed, knowing he was going to be giving me concerned glances all day. I walked back up to him and tilted my head upward, blinking a few times and bravely looking straight at him. "Fine, how do my eyes look? Normal?" I asked, willing myself to remain calm.

He stared at me for a few moments without saying a word, then put his hand around my cheek. "They're…"

My pulse started to pick up again.

"Lovely," he finished.

I had to swallow before I could gather enough breath to reply. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling as though I might need to hold onto the desk again.

He slowly pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair. "You're pupils are fine, too," he added quickly. "They're the same size, so…that's a good thing. That's what your home care pamphlet says is normal, anyway…"

"Oh, right," I answered, pulling at my t-shirt. "Well, good. Proof enough."

Edward nodded and moved to pick up the book by his chair, setting it on top of the little stack of other books. "So…will you be okay? Do you want me to wait here in case you need help?"

"Help…in the shower?" I said, widening my eyes. _Tell him you need help washing your hair. Or your back. Or your-_

"I guess I'm worried that you're going to slip," he said honestly. Who could blame him?

I shook my head, chuckling. "I'll be fine. How about I meet you downstairs when I'm finished? Unless you want to go back to sleep. Doris would probably be a good babysitter substitute."

"I'm sure she would," said Edward, giving his shoulders a final stretch. "But I don't break promises, remember?"

"Yeah, sure," I said. "I wonder if Jessica's here this morning…I'm sure she's still remembering that you don't break promises, either."

He narrowed his eyes at the mention of the little spit-skank. "On second thought, maybe we _should_ stay up here. You're supposed to be resting anyway."

"Nice try," I said. "I've been sleeping forever. Besides, I don't want to miss Angela if she stops by."

Edward raised his hands in surrender. "All right," he agreed. "I'll meet you outside in a bit."

With that, he collected the plastic cups and went out the door, leaving me to fend for myself. It was strange, but the room seemed much emptier without him. I picked up my phone again and checked the time. It was ten thirty-two; I'd practically slept the whole morning away. I looked around, wondering if the past twenty-four hours had _actually_ happened. It seemed like such a blur; yesterday morning, he knew almost nothing about me. Since then, he'd seen me get my food spit on, nearly have a cat fight with Jessica, get hit by a car, go unconscious, bleed, and cry. Some _marriages_ didn't even include all of that.

I fumbled in my suitcase for a fresh change of clothes and stripped off my pajamas and _penguin panties, _making sure to stuff them deep inside an empty duffel bag with my other laundry. I thought about tossing the pair of underwear, but then decided against it, in fear that they would accidentally be discovered in the trash by whoever came to change my sheets. I hoped to God that Jessica or Lauren wouldn't ever be in charge of that. If they were, I'd probably pull back my sheets one evening to find an animal carcass waiting for me.

In the bathroom, I slowly peeled off the bandage on my head to discover a horrible-looking, purplish-black bruise that was thankfully _not_ bleeding. I was starting to look like I'd been the test target for a paintball gun. In the shower, I cursed like a sailor every time shampoo or soap trickled into one of my cuts and decided to cut it short; maybe I'd actually let myself soak in the huge claw-footed bathtub later to soothe my muscles. Maybe it would calm my sexual fantasies, too.

By the time I'd gotten dressed, popped some Tylenol, covered my head in band-aids, and fixed my hair, it was nearing eleven-fifteen. My stomach rumbled in protest.

"No food for you," I replied out loud, a bit disappointed that I was going to have to wait until dinnertime to _test_ myself. Nothing but clear liquids all day. How boring. At least I'd be able to get them myself, so I had no reason to be suspicious about any phlegm-coated entrees…I shuddered at the thought. I should have just tattled on Jessica's snooty ass to Doris, but then I'd probably get attacked by a mob of her little cronies with flaming sticks and beat with Gucci bags. I wondered how Edward would plan to save the day then…probably distract them all by taking off his shirt and/or pants and announcing that there was a 50%-off sale at Banana Republic.

_Could you perhaps daydream any longer? I think Jesus was just reborn!_

I knew Edward was probably pacing around in the hallway, wondering what the hell was so time-consuming. I opened my door and sure enough, he was ambulating back and forth in front of the stairs, freshly-showered and looking stressed.

"Sorry," I said as I poked my head outside of my room. "I'll be out in-"

"Can I come in?" he asked quickly, stepping toward me faster than I could finish my sentence.

"Um…yes," I said, stepping to the side and letting him by. I peeked down the hallway, curious about his rush. "Is Lauren screwing someone up here again?"

"No," he answered, striding over to the desk and squatting down to the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, closing my door and cautiously walking toward him.

Edward glanced up at me with a disquieted look. "Have you seen my wallet?"

I narrowed my eyes and glanced around the room. I hadn't noticed it earlier…actually, I hadn't seen it since he paid for dinner the previous night. "No, I don't remember you having it out," I answered. "Could it be in your car?"

"I checked," he said, sounding more anxious, looking under the desk and along the floor where he had been sitting beforehand.

Not wanting to remain still, I pulled back my comforter and checked under the sheets and pillows. I _had_ pulled him into my bed last night-not that I was animalistic enough to make inanimate objects shoot out of his pockets, but who could ever be sure when it came to me? "It's not in my bed," I said, feeling moronic.

_Congratulations, Bella, you now sound like a streetwalker. _It was as if he'd just had a one night stand with me as his call girl. God.

After a few moments, he stood up and raked his hands through his hair, blowing his breath out audibly. The look on his face made me feel uneasy; I understood that losing something like a wallet was a cause for concern, of course-but he looked as though he had just lost someone's kid.

"I could ask Angela," I said, trying to stay positive. "Maybe you left it at the hospital. Did you ever take it out?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember. I don't think-I-"

"Well, let's go look for it," I said, eager to ease his obvious distress. "We could go to-"

"Bella, you're not going anywhere," he said brusquely, his eyes still sweeping the room in a search. "You got hit by a car last night-you're not going to be running around all day looking for my stupid wallet when you're supposed to be taking it easy."

"Okay, fine," I said, ignoring his abruptness. "I'll call the hospital and you call the restaurant where we had dinner. If you dropped it, it's probably at one of those locations."

He shrugged, only looking a bit reassured. "Okay," he said, fidgeting with his shirt, then finally meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry, I just-there are things in there that I _can't_ lose."

I nodded, all the while trying to think of what was in a man's wallet that he _couldn't_ lose. Though it was a hassle, credit cards and a license could be replaced…

_Oh, God_. _Condoms_. He was probably a sex addict and his glove compartment was home to the little black fuck-yourself-box. _Ha. Tell him you could be his _**_therapist_**_._

I shook myself out of my stupid thoughts and pulled on his hand. "Come on, let's go downstairs," I said, opening the door and walking out into the hall. "Maybe Doris found it."

"I asked her," he replied sullenly as we walked down the staircase. "She hasn't seen it. None of the staff turned one in, either."

_That bitch Jessica probably found it and has it stashed away in her closet Shrine O' Edward._

The lobby was warm and bright as usual; though, it was emptier than normal, as it was creeping closer to noon and everyone was already finished with breakfast. Doris waved us over before we could make a move elsewhere.

"Good morning, Isabella!" she said pleasantly, giving me a warm smile. "You certainly look much better! How are you feeling, dear?"

"A lot better, thank you," I said. "Edward has good chaperone skills; I'm still in one piece."

Doris chuckled and glanced at Edward. "Any luck with your wallet, Mr. Masen?"

"No," said Edward quietly. "May I borrow your phone book, Doris? I just wanted to call a few places and see if I left it somewhere."

"Of course, dear," she said, smiling at Edward as though he had just asked her if she'd like to join him on a midnight carriage ride, and turned to some shelves behind her.

As we waited, I heard a friendly voice from the back of the café. I turned around to see Angela chatting with Tom at the kitchen door. God bless that freaking girl.

"Angela's here," I said to Edward. "I'll go see if she can call the hospital."

He nodded and I walked over to the café, carefully maneuvering my way through the tables to ward off any tripping catastrophe. Angela noticed me and said a quick goodbye to Tom. "Hey, Bella," she said, meeting me halfway and smiling. "You're finally awake."

"Yeah, I feel like I've been asleep for days," I said, returning her grin.

"How are you doing?" she asked, going into nurse-mode and examining my head. "Any pain?"

"Not too bad, thanks. I took some Tylenol, so I should be fine," I said, shrugging, not wanting to be fussed over anymore. "Before I forget-Edward might have left his wallet at the hospital last night. Do you think you could call over and see if anyone might have turned it in? He's kind of freaking out."

Angela looked over my shoulder to where Edward was standing; he seemed to be poring over the phone book in a hurry with his cell phone at his ear. "Oh, sure," she said, pulling her phone out of her purse. "What does it look like?"

I thought back to all the times he had pulled it out of his pocket yesterday, which reminded me of how much money he had spent. I really _was_ going to have to think of a way to pay him back-now having to also add on my appreciation of him watching over me all night. "Uh, black leather, I think. It was a two-fold."

Angela nodded and dialed a number and I glanced around the room. No sign of Witch and Bitch. At least that made the morning seem a little brighter. I made myself a cup of tea and sat at one of the tables, proceeding to stir a packet of honey into the mug. My thoughts began whirling in unison with my spoon; was Edward really that freaked out over losing money? I wasn't exactly rich and would no doubt be freaking out, too, if I had lost my purse. Losing cash _was_ unfortunate. I wondered how much he'd had stashed in there? Maybe he had robbed a bank or something…maybe that little black case had contained a ski mask and a gun, and he had stuffed a roll of hundred-dollar bills in his wallet-maybe he wasn't just upset…maybe he was _pissed_ that he'd lost a piece of his hard work.

My mind continued wandering like a lost sheep. _Maybe he was a junkie_. He didn't seem to sleep much, after all-he'd been socially withdrawn with most people, according to Angela, and his moods seemed to go dizzily from one spectrum to the next-back and forth, hot and cold. Maybe there was a little plastic package of coke in his wallet and he was spastic about getting his next fix. Maybe _that_ would explain why his eyes always seemed to have a life of their own.

Or maybe he was in the _government_, and had lost a bunch of nuclear warhead detonation codes-

"Are you going to drink that?" Angela's voice broke into my thoughts, and I realized that I had aimlessly been clanking my spoon around in my cup to an annoyingly loud degree. She looked at me curiously, raising her eyebrows.

"Sorry," I said, pulling the spoon out of my mug and setting it on a napkin. "I was…just thinking."

She pulled an orange out of one of the fruit baskets and sat down with me. "About someone in particular? Perhaps an oh-so-charming someone who beat the crap out of a bunch of guys for you last night?"

"Are you ever going to stop teasing me?" I asked quietly, stealing a peek over at Edward, who was still on the phone.

"Sorry, Bella, it's too tempting when your face is beet red like that," she said with a smile as she peeled pieces of the orange's skin off in chunks. "What exactly _were_ you thinking?"

I took a sip of tea and twiddled my fingers nervously. "I can't seem to figure him out. He has layers upon layers of secrecy…every time I think that I might have peeled a piece of it off, he seems to have put three more back on."

Angela put a piece of orange in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "He is quite the anonymous type," she agreed. "Although, I've never seen him more candid than he was last night. He was so upset over what happened to you."

I rubbed at my head absentmindedly and blew my breath out. "Did he enlighten you that he feels that he's responsible for that, by the way?" I said wryly.

Angela nodded. "He wouldn't stop blaming himself."

"Those morons were drunk and stupid," I said, shaking my head. "He didn't force them to chug alcohol and feel me up. And he certainly didn't knock my clumsy ass into the street. I still don't see how he thinks _he_ caused that."

"He wasn't there to protect you," she stated simply.

I gave her a surprised glance. "Did he tell you that?"

"Yes, but he wouldn't have had to say anything," she answered, eating another orange wedge. "It was written all over his face."

I sighed. "God only knows why he's got such a guilt complex. He said that-"

Angela suddenly kicked me under the table and I shut up immediately as I heard footsteps approach from behind us. Edward came around to our table and stood by my chair. I felt my cheeks turning bright pink. _Had he heard me?_

"Hey, Edward," said Angela. "I asked the head nurse if anyone turned in or found a wallet last night, and she said she didn't see anything matching yours. Unless yours is a pink Velcro one with a Hello Kitty emblem." Angela gave me a small smile and I could almost hear her thoughts. _Pink like your __face__, Bella!_

Edward sighed and nodded. "Thanks. I might be in luck with Michael's. They said they found two black wallets last night but they refuse to give me any information-I have to go down there and physically let them match me up to my ID."

"Michael's?" I repeated.

"Where we had dinner," he said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Oh. Apparently, I'd been too riveted by his face to have paid any attention to the names of stores or restaurants. _There's more to the guy than his face, you shallow little minx_. "I can't remember a damn thing, can I?" I mumbled, rubbing my head.

"Does your head hurt?" he asked, stunning me with his worried gaze.

"Not really," I said quietly, cursing my rushing bloodstream as my heart picked up again. _I'm just a little embarrassed that you've completely taken over my rational thoughts, that's all. Get some sunglasses while you're out, please._

"Maybe I should wait until tomorrow," he said hesitantly, looking torn. He brushed his hand near my bandage, as if touching it would somehow insinuate if I was lying or not. Then he gave me a strange look and pressed his hand to my cheek. "You feel warm, Bella."

I glanced at him and snickered. _That's because you sex me up, you tortured little stud-muffin._

Edward threw Angela an anxious look. "Can you tell me if she feels warm to you?"

Angela frowned and reached across the table to feel my forehead. I brushed both of them away, feeling more self-conscious by the second. "I'm fine, you guys," I protested, feeling my cheeks heat up even more. _Calm down, you're making it worse!_

"A little," Angela agreed. "It's probably from the shot I gave you yesterday. It's normal to feel a little feverish or tired."

"I feel _fine_," I argued, and it was the truth. Physically, yes. Sexually, I was bouncing off the walls. I wondered if Angela had a dose of something that would fix _that_. "Look, Angela's here and if she has to leave, I promise I'll go follow Doris around."

"I don't have to be at work until four," Angela piped up.

Edward looked from Angela to me, then finally settled his uneasy eyes on my face. I was secretly pleased that he was worried about leaving me, and if I was being honest, I was slightly bothered that he had to go…but at that point, we needed a break. Maybe we would both calm down if we had a few hours apart; I wouldn't drive him to insanity by falling over again and he could get his wallet…and my cardiovascular system could function at a normal pace for once. Win-win.

"Don't look at me like you're abandoning me," I lectured him. "I'm surrounded by people. If I suddenly have a seizure, I don't think I'm going to go unnoticed."

The fretful look on his face at my words made me feel guilty. "I'm _kidding_, Edward," I said, giving him a shove toward the door. "Go on, I'll be fine. You can come back and baby-sit me during dinner."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, which were showing traces of the recurring dark circles underneath them. I was suddenly concerned about him driving; he was running on hardly any sleep and hadn't had coffee since the early morning hours, as far as I knew.

"Okay," he said, giving me a once-over. "I'll be back in a little while. Are you sure you-"

"I've got her, Edward," said Angela gently, putting her hand on my arm.

"You both are worse than my mother," I said, scowling, propping my chin up with my hand. "I'll see you later," I added to Edward.

He gave me a long look before turning towards the door, and finally walked off. He disappeared through the door, a little chime sounding his departure. I turned back to Angela and made a face at her satisfied grin.

"Dear God, does he have it bad for you," she said, chuckling.

I picked up a piece of her orange peel and started breaking it into little pieces, no doubt flushing a deeper shade of red. "No, he doesn't."

"Do you _see_ how he looks at you?" she pressed.

"It's the guilt complex, I'm telling you," I repeated, flicking the orange peel around the table. We sat quietly for a little while longer as she finished her orange and I nursed my tea.

Suddenly, the door chimed again and I whirled around in my chair. I was ready to stand up and push Edward back out the door and force him into his front seat of his goddamned Volvo, but stopped short as I saw someone I thought I'd never see again. He spotted me instantly.

"Well, if it isn't my most loquacious concussion case?"

"Ben?" I said, breaking into a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if I'd won the bet already," said Ben, returning my smile and walking over to the table, dressed in a fresh paramedic uniform. "Have you-?"

He stopped as he noticed Angela and abruptly seemed at a loss for words. I looked at Angela questioningly and raised my eyebrows as I noticed a faint trail of pink spreading across _her_ cheeks.

"Angela?" Ben inquired, looking surprised.

"Hi, Ben," Angela said quietly, a small smile fixed on her face. "How have you been?"

"I've been…great," he answered, looking like a shy little kid as he stuck his hands in his back pockets. "You?"

"Good," she answered, her face still pink. Not as bad as mine could get, but I was suddenly very excited to have something to tease her with for a change.

Ben cleared his throat and looked back at me. "How are _you_, Bella?"

"Oh, I'm…fine," I said, grinning widely. "So, you two know each other…?"

"We went to high school together," Ben said, turning back to Angela. "I haven't seen you since graduation."

"Yeah, it's been awhile," she said, then looked at us both curiously. "How-how did you know Bella had a concussion?"

"Actually, I didn't," he replied, sweeping his hand through his hair. "I just assumed as much…get your memory back?"

"Yeah, I'm all restored, I suppose," I said, tracing my fingers over my numerous band-aids. "Ben was my paramedic last night," I explained to Angela.

"And she was one of the most comical cases I'd ever had," he said, returning my large grin. "Didn't stop talking about her boyfriend the entire ride to the hospital."

"Edward is _not_ my boyfriend," I pressed. "I just-was a little confused…and freaked out by the ambulance. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Michelangelo would disagree with you," said Ben, chuckling.

I almost fell out of my chair, nearly trembling in dismay. "_Ben_! You _promised_-"

Ben laughed and I was now certain that all of my blood was now partying in my head, leaving nothing but air below my neck. "Relax, Bella, my lips are sealed," he said, patting my shoulder. "Speaking of lips, have I won the bet yet? Edward _is_ staying here, too, right?"

"Yeah, he is, and _no_, you have not," I said, running my fingers through my hair, still embarrassed. I hoped Angela wasn't planning on asking what Ben was talking about. "Edward just left for Port Angeles a few minutes ago; he lost his wallet last night and he went down to check at Michael's. They said they found two that looked like his."

Ben frowned. "I wish I would have gotten here sooner," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out none other than a black leather wallet. "I found this in the back of the ambulance just as we got back to the station last night. It was late, so I thought I'd just drop it off to him today. I guess I should have called."

I took the wallet from Ben and sighed, thankful that this would be one less weight to remove from Edward's seemingly heavy shoulders. "I'm sure he won't mind," I said, rubbing my thumb over the slightly worn leather. "He'll be relieved, I promise you. I wish I had his number-I'd call him to come back."

I tucked the wallet into my own pocket and placed my hand over it protectively. God forbid _I_ would be the one to lose it next. I looked back to Angela and Ben, who were still smiling shyly at each other. I began to feel as though I was a third-wheel just as Tom stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Ang? Do you know where the good whisk is? I'm about to lose my mind," said Tom, looking harried.

Angela stood up quickly, almost knocking her chair backwards. "Uh…I'll be right back," she said, pushing her chair in slowly. Ben watched her disappear into the kitchen and then looked at me. I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to laugh immaturely, as if I were a child watching their teenage neighbors make out for the first time.

"Who's throwing the looks of infatuation _now_, Ben?" I said with a smile.

Ben chuckled and gripped the table nervously. "I think you're still a little confused from last night."

"Ha," I said. "I think I'm going to turn that bet around on you and Angela."

He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. Classic nervous-guy thing to do. It was cute.

"Hey, Ben," I said, an idea suddenly dawning on me, "when you found Edward's wallet…you looked inside of it, right?"

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "His license is right in the front. Says he's from Chicago. It's a good thing you told me where you were staying or I would have had to mail it to his house-there's no telling when he would have finally received it."

I nodded slowly, feeling my forehead crease as I thought.

"What?" asked Ben.

"Did…did anything look-" I stopped myself, thinking that I was just going to end up putting my foot in my mouth. I had no right to pry into his privacy, even if it was only a wallet.

"Oh, well, nothing was ruined, if that's what you meant," Ben said honestly. "I mean-it _was_ wet from the rain, but it seems like it's holding together okay. If he asks, I laid out the bills to dry overnight-just a few twenties. I promise I didn't take anything," he added with a smile.

"Oh…okay," I said. So Ben had seen everything inside. No drugs. No suspicious looking computer chip. No hit list of people to kill. Just money.

Though I should have been one-hundred percent relieved, if I was being honest, I was _actually_ a little disappointed that there wasn't some big secret to uncover. I'd been reading too many thriller and spy novels.

Angela came back after that and the three of us chatted while other guests filtered in and out of the café for lunch. I stuck to my liquid diet as Angela and Ben had BLTs; I finally let Angela and Ben in on the tale of the venomous omelet I'd received from Jessica. I almost choked on my tea when Ben called her a "man-hungry whore" and Angela promised that she'd make sure that Tom would never let Jessica touch my food again. I also got to hear a few memorable stories from their high school days. Much to my chagrin, some of them included this Mike Newton kid-which, then, I couldn't seem to get the vision of him and Lauren out of my head-that, and their squawking sex noises. I hadn't realized how much time had past until I heard Doris's grandfather clock clang three times.

"Geez," said Ben, apparently hearing the time as well. "It's easy to lose track of the time with you ladies. I've got a shift at four-thirty. I should get going. Port Angeles awaits."

Angela gave me a glance, looking culpable. "I've got to go, too, Bella. My shift starts in an hour-I'd stay longer, but I have to go home and change."

I waved away her guilty look. "Oh, please, I understand. Thank you for keeping me company. You keep saving me, you know," I said, smiling.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, giving me a hug. "Will you call me if you need anything? Let me give you my number."

She grabbed a napkin and wrote her number on it and I gave Ben a pointed look. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Here you go," said Angela, handing me the napkin. "Really-call me if you have any pain or need help with something. Or just to say hi, of course."

"Thanks, Angela," I said. "I owe you. Well, Ben, it was really nice seeing you again."

"You, too, Bella," he said. "Without all the catheters and wires, of course."

"Ha ha," I said. "I'll tell Edward you stopped by. And again, I'm sure he'll be seeking you out to thank you."

"Ah, no worries," said Ben. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

I wondered if I'd ever have a conversation with anyone else in Forks that didn't end with someone telling me to take care of myself or to take it easy or to go fuck myself. Maybe another day… I waved to them both as they walked towards the door. Ben glanced back at me once and I shaped my hand like a phone and then pointed to Angela. He rolled his eyes, but not before a gleaming smile flashed over his face.

Well, if anything positive came out of my mishap, maybe Angela and Ben could reconnect. That would make a nice future wedding card. _I'm so glad my concussion brought you two together._ I chuckled and made for the stairs, deciding that I was not energetic enough to go and seek out Doris. I was fond of her, but I wasn't about to have someone else hint at my relationship with Edward. No use in getting my hopes up for something that seemed much too complicated at the moment.

-:-

I squinted, glaring at the little black rectangle with rebellious eyes.

_Open, damn you._

Edward's wallet was sitting on the desk in my room and was not responding to my attempts at telekinesis. The little deviant inside me wanted to carefully inspect every inch, just in case Ben had missed something. The respectful part of me told me to back the fuck off and to step away from Edward's personal property. Yet…there was no harm in having a look at his license; Ben had gone through it, after all. I already knew what was inside, so this wasn't _really_ snooping, was it? I placed the edge of my fingernail under the leather and raised up the flap slowly, then pulled it back as though I'd touched a flame.

_You are not touching his stuff. WWJSD? What would Jessica Stanley do? She'd ransack it. You are _**_not _**_her._

I sat on the end of my bed with a huff and bit my thumbnail. It was after four o'clock now, and Edward still hadn't returned. I was getting antsy. And tired. Angela hadn't lied about the fatigue; I definitely felt like I'd run a marathon, when in reality, I'd done nothing but sleep and sit on my ass all day. I was going to have to muster up the courage to ask Edward for his phone number; this was driving me crazy. I couldn't help but sit and bounce my legs anxiously, wondering if he'd fallen asleep at the wheel and plummeted off Highway 101 or something equally horrendous. My heart pulsed in panic at the very thought of anything happening to him…

_You sound like a worried mother._

And then my eyes snapped open at the thought. I hadn't called Renée and Charlie since the day I arrived. Renée had promised to give me privacy, which explained her not calling already-but still, I felt as though I owed them a hello, at least. Though, I certainly wasn't thrilled to deal with Renée's inevitable freak out that she would have about my accident. Then, a thought popped into my head-one that had the potential to grant me a few hours, possibly even a day before I had to deal with my parents' worries and concerns for me. I picked up my phone and dialed Renée's cell number, waiting to hear:

"_Hi, this is Renée! Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you soon!"_

Her cell phone had completely kicked the bucket before I'd left, but I knew that she was still checking her messages. It was after seven o'clock in Jacksonville; hopefully, she had checked her messages already; even if she hadn't, it would still buy me some time.

"Hey, Mom, it's Bella," I said casually. "Just checking in. It's Sunday…things are going pretty well. Call me if you want. Love you."

Short and sweet. I hung up, feeling a bit irresponsible. There was no telling when she would get the message…but at least I could say that I had, indeed, called. I collapsed onto my bed and sprawled out on my stomach, clutching a pillow. I played with the corners of the pillowcase for a bit until I heard a knock at my door. I practically jumped out of my skin and nearly tripped as I bolted out of bed to answer it.

"Hello, dear!" said Doris warmly as I opened the door. My shoulders relaxed instantly and I tried not to appear too disheartened. She was holding an armful of clean, fluffy white towels and held out half of the stack to me. "I forgot to bring these to you earlier. I hope you didn't need any before then!"

"Oh, thanks, Doris," I said, accepting the towels and taking in their fresh fragrance.

"Not a problem, darling," said Doris, craning her head to the side. "Is Mr. Masen still gone?"

I turned to look at Edward's door. "I haven't heard anything," I said. "I guess he's still driving around." _At least,_ _I hope he's still driving…_awake _and driving._ "Doris, you don't know his phone number, do you?"

Doris pursed her lips in thought. "Come to think of it, he never gave a phone number. He paid for an entire month up front, even though he said he was only staying a few weeks-so I never required him to give one. And I'm afraid Caller-ID is one of the things I've not put into this old place. I can't seem to keep up with the Hilton!" She grinned and clucked her tongue. "That boy…bit mysterious, isn't he?"

I somehow managed not to snort. I set my towels on the bathroom sink and turned back to Doris. "Do you need help with anything?" I asked, trying to be polite.

"Actually, dear, would you mind holding these?" she asked, holding up the rest of the towels. "I just have to dig Mr. Masen's key out of my pocket."

I understood then. She was going to put the rest of the towels in _Edward's room_. I stood, frozen to the spot.

"Isabella? Are you all right?"

"Uh huh," I squeaked and walked back to the door, taking the towels from her quickly. "Sorry. Daydreaming."

Doris chuckled with a knowing smile and walked down the hallway. I quickly followed her footsteps as she reached into her pocket and pulled out an ancient-looking ring of keys. She unlocked the door and took the stack of towels from me. "Thank you, dear," she said lightly and entered Edward's room.

I stood awkwardly at the door, unable to see inside from my position. Feeling like a curious child, I craned my neck around the edge of the doorway and peeked inside…and my mouth parted in amazement. His room was the exact opposite of mine. My room seemed so bright and airy and _white _with its cream-colored walls, light hardwood floors, and wide windows. Edward's room resembled something straight out of a storybook. The walls were polished, golden, and wooden, carved with multifarious designs and the windows were small and square. His bed was a mahogany wood with a dark green comforter and matching pillows-much bigger than my full-sized bed. His had to be queen-sized. The floor was richly carpeted with designs similar to oriental carpet; I couldn't be sure of its origin. But the most attractive thing in the room was an enormous, stone fireplace parallel to the bed.

Though it was unlit, I was entranced. Scattered candles adorned the ledge and above that was a large framed painting. I stepped inside carefully and walked up to the fireplace, unable to stop staring at the beautiful work: golden rays of sunlight were filtering through a wide array of trees; they were shadowy and tight, only breaking for an open space on the ground where tangles of grass and leaves lay still by a large boulder, as if waiting for something-maybe the wind-to come and bring them to life. I searched the bottom of the painting for an artist, but instead of a name or the popular scrawl of initials, it read a simple phrase-one that I was quite familiar with:

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep…_

A chill crept up inside of me-the kind you get when something oddly familiar catches your attention. I didn't know why, but looking at that painting…I couldn't help but feel like I'd been there before.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

I jumped with a slight shriek and whirled around to see Doris right by my side. "Oh, my God, Doris…"

She laughed heartily and patted my shoulder. "Sorry, dear! I didn't mean to startle you."

I sighed and put my hand on my chest. "It's okay. I was just distracted…that painting?" I said, pointing up to it. "Who's the artist? Do you know?"

Doris glanced at the painting with a pondering look. "You know, I have not a clue. It came before my time here…so many mysteries." She gave me a thoughtful smile. "That's what I love about this place. People come and people go, but they always leave little bits of themselves behind-whether it's forgotten belongings, creases in the blankets, or just secrets…it all lingers. There are stories in every corner."

I nodded, giving her a slight smile, thinking of how exactly _right_ she was. I glanced around, realizing that though that was endearingly true, I didn't see much of a trace that the room was even being lived in besides the large black canvas bag sitting in the corner. Great. He was clean, too. Could he be any more perfect?

_Oh, God. American Psycho._

"Well, come on, dear, I don't want to keep you from getting your rest," she said, taking me by the arm, distracting me from my rampant thoughts of chainsaws and hookers running through hallways. "You look simply bushed, Isabella. Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Yes, I promise," I said. "Just some side-effects from a shot yesterday, that's all."

_Actually, Edward just gives my heart a work-out every time I touch him. Or see him. Or smell him. Or hear his voice. I haven't gotten the opportunity to taste him, yet-damn it all._

Doris walked me back to my room and cheerfully glided down the stairs as I retreated back inside. I face-planted into my bed and breathed in the scent of my sheets, something I had grown to love to do. Another knock came at my door within a few moments and I lifted my head slightly, still half-blinded by a pillow.

"Come in, Doris," I called, too lazy to move this time.

Of course, it wasn't Doris. The door opened slowly and Edward poked his head around the corner to find me unattractively spread-eagled on my bed, appearing as though I had a mouthful of a pillow. I pushed myself up quickly, but he held out his hand.

"No, don't get up," he said, waving me back down. "I'm glad you're resting."

_Ha. You can't hear my heartbeat-I'm anything but rested._

I sat up anyway. "You took _forever_," I said, trying to keep the unfathomable relief out of my voice. "I was getting worried."

He gave me a barely-there smile and shut my door. "Sorry. I was scouring the streets of Port Angeles." He pushed his hand through his hair, looking drained. The whites of his eyes had taken on a pink tint and he had dark circles under his lower eyelashes. He looked wholly overcome.

"Oh!" I suddenly cried, his melancholic expression reminding me of the one thing that might make him feel better. I rolled off my bed and grabbed his wallet off my desk. I held it out to him, unable to keep a huge smile from overtaking my expression. "Look what turned up."

The relief on Edward's face was like watching a miracle occur; all of the stress and anxiety melted away instantly and was replaced with an endearing smile that was charming enough to warm even the iciest of hearts. He reached out and took it from me, immediately opening it to check the inside.

"Thank God," he said wholeheartedly, flipping through the contents and then looking at up at me, beguiling me with his happiness. "Bella, I could kiss you."

Even my sassy voice was stunned silent…for only a moment. _Could? How about 'going to,' you tease!_

"Um," I said finally, a giggle escaping me, "then you should probably go kiss Ben. He found it in the back of the ambulance last night. He dropped it off while you were gone. I would have called you to come back, but I didn't know your number. I'm sorry."

Edward shook his head, still smiling. "_Sorry_ is a word I never want to hear from you anymore. You have _nothing_ to be sorry about."

And then the unthinkable happened. He moved close to me and pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tightly. The breath whooshed out of me as I stood as still as a statue for a split second, before wrapping my arms around him and allowing myself to fully immerse myself in his touch. I was glad he was holding on to me; I would have certainly tipped over from the overwhelming rush of my blood through my entire body. He smelled _so_ good…clean, musky-simply _divine_. I almost gasped as I felt his chin touch the top of my head.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I swallowed a few times before I could speak. "I…didn't really _do_ anything-"

"It doesn't matter," he said, continuing to hold me against him.

In that moment, any kind of emotional agony or physical trauma that I had endured within the past day, the past week-my whole life-didn't seem to matter, either. It had brought me to _this_…being in his arms-my own personal protector…as if it was where I was _supposed_ to be. I'd never felt anything like it. He was pure shelter…bliss…_vitality_.

When he finally released me, I stepped back a bit to take a deep breath. Instinctively, like a child, my hand went to my mouth nervously-I'd always hated that I had a habit of biting my nails, but it was calming to me. He took a breath, too, then slid his wallet into his back pocket. He looked as though he was thinking about sewing it shut.

"So…how's the weather?"

_Oh, yeah, how __is__ the weather? Because I'm an eighty-year old grandmother and would like to know. Fuck-a-doodle-doo._

"Not bad, just a bit cloudy," he said. "I'm glad it wasn't raining. My eyes were glazing over, and I suppose I didn't need precipitation on top of that. You look tired."

"I am," I admitted, rubbing my arm; the injection site was itchy.

"I interrupted your nap, didn't I?" he asked, twisting his hair between his fingers.

"No, not at all," I said. "I was just stretching out. You don't mind if I continue that, do you?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not. Oh-do you want me to leave? I'll go."

_What?_ "No, I don't want you to go," I said, grabbing his hand before he could walk away. "I thought you had-" I grabbed my cell phone and checked the time. "-seven hours left."

His lips curled into a satirical smile. "Oh, I do, do I? I thought you let me off the hook."

I opened my mouth to respond, but closed my mouth as he chuckled. "I'm kidding, Bella. Of course I'll stay."

"You-you don't _have_ to," I said, suddenly feeling insolent for assuming he'd actually want to stay and keep my sleep-talking ass company.

"I told you I was kidding," he said, rubbing his neck. "I know exactly how much time is left."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, loving the sound of his 'teasing' voice. "How much?"

He looked at his watch. "It's four-thirty-seven. We arrived here last night at eleven-forty-one. Seven hours and four minutes."

"Then you're finally rid of me, huh?" I crawled onto my bed and stretched out on my side, fighting a yawn.

"You _would_ think that," he said, making his way over to my desk chair.

"Edward, _please_, do not put yourself through the agony of sitting in that chair again," I blurted out.

He narrowed his eyes. "Would you prefer me to stand?"

I let out a hysterical giggle. "_No_," I said, grinning. "Are you serious? I meant come sit over here on my bed-lay down if you'd like. I know you're sore, I can tell by the way you're standing. Plus, you barely got any sleep-if sleeping on a chair even qualifies as such."

"It's not that bad," he said, but came to the side of the bed anyway. "I've been awake for longer."

"That's awful," I replied, grasping my pillow in anticipation as he sat down.

He shrugged and yawned. "Are you…sure this is okay?"

Was he _joking_? "Edward," I said with a sigh. "You're killing me."

He shook his head and stretched out next to me, bending his knees so his long legs would actually fit on the bed. It thrilled me beyond belief that he was lying next to me, a decision of his own choosing this time. He looked positively striking as he angled himself toward me, pressing his face into a pillow with a sigh. "I won't lie," he said. "I may not be able to get up…you might have to push me off the bed later."

_You might have to push _**_me _**_off of _**_you _**_later._

"Here," I said, sliding another pillow over to him. "I always like to hug an extra. Do you do that?"

Edward gave me a small smile. "Sometimes," he said, accepting the pillow and wrapping his arm around it. We were silent for a bit, simply studying each other…it wasn't uncomfortable in the least, which was surprising to me. I'd never exactly felt placid looking into someone's eyes for very long-and that went for anyone gazing at me for longer than a few moments. But with him…something was different. I didn't mind his eyes on me. They were soothing…infinite…and simply tantalizing.

"You really put yourself through the wringer, didn't you?" I asked. He looked tired, of course, but the stress of the afternoon had worn him out completely. "I mean…it's a shame to lose money…but you could have canceled the credit cards, right?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, not meeting my eyes. "Right."

I knew _that_ look. "But there was something else in there?"

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, doing his blink-and-think routine. "Yes."

I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to curb my longing mouth from asking what and why he had been such a wreck about it. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, deciding to practice my patience without complaint. I only opened them again when I heard him move. I opened them quickly, thinking he was in the process of leaving, but was surprised to see him sliding his wallet out of his pocket and opening it in front of me. My eyes were the size of dinner plates as he unzipped a small compartment and pulled out a silver chain necklace with a glimmering heart crystal pendant hanging from the bottom. It was gorgeous…but I was just as bemused as I was curious.

"That's yours?" I asked unsurely.

"My mom's," Edward replied. "She would've killed me if I ever misplaced it."

He held it out to me and I accepted it with only a slightly shaking hand. I was stunned that he was actually letting me hold something that was admittedly precious. I admired the shiny chain and the sparkling charm with fascination, then looked at him with questioning eyes.

"It's…beautiful," I said sincerely. "Why doesn't she have it?"

"She…wanted me to have something of hers," he said, also watching the little crystal swing as I moved my hand to get a closer look. "She knew I was going away…she always knew whenever I was planning something, no matter how secretive I tried to be."

"Are you talking about the Army?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah," he said, taking the necklace from my hand as I held it out to him. He gently lowered it back into the little pouch, zipping it closed and then tucking the wallet back into his jeans. "I've held onto it ever since. I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I had lost it."

I turned onto my stomach and rested my head on my pillow, facing him. "Why did you leave home?"

I carefully studied his arcane eyes as they glanced back and forth as though they were participating in an elusive dance-the sheets, the foot of the bed, his hand, the corner of the room-anywhere but my face. I'd hit a soft spot…and before my eyes, he shrank back into his confidential blanket of anguish.

"Please…don't ask me that yet," he said softly, exhaustion taking over his face again.

"Okay," I replied quickly, hating the unknown thing that was causing him to feel so awful. "I won't."

He nodded and gradually, his shoulders loosened and he relaxed against the mattress. I reached out and put my hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. "You should close your eyes for a bit," I suggested. "I'm not going anywhere."

Edward furrowed his eyebrows, looking at me with his _obligation_ face again. I spoke before he could get a word out, figuring that I could at least make this easier for him to accept. "I'm tired, too," I said. "You don't mind taking a nap with me, do you?"

"No," said Edward, his eyes filled with a mixture of sincerity and if I wasn't mistaken, gratitude. "Not at all."

"Thanks," I said in a near whisper. I pulled my hand back slowly and hugged my pillow. "Feel free to poke me if I talk too much."

He gave me the smallest smile I'd ever seen out of him. "Okay," he answered.

I closed my eyes then, hoping that I would fall asleep before him-otherwise, I'd be too tempted to gaze at him like the little prurient ogler I was. I concentrated on the sounds of his soft breath and needless to say, it lulled me to sleep within minutes.

-:-

**I have to say…incredulous isn't a justified enough term to describe my reaction to all of you lovely people and your positive feedback. My mouth drops open sometimes when I check my email and I've got over 30 emails from Fanfiction alone. (Um, and I'm cowering in shame about those reviews I haven't answered yet…I'm getting to them, I swear!) Honestly…I don't really know what to say, other than Thank You! I'm flattered and most appreciative. Love to all :D**

**I was a bit music-psychotic this past week. I went from listening to the Tudors soundtrack (you can find it on Imeem-I recommend A Historic Love and Pleasured Distractions) to "Silent All These Years" by Tori Amos to "Monday" by Ludovico Einaudi (of course) to "Ride the Lightning" by Metallica. It's true. I will even confess to taking a break from the middle of writing and dancing around like a crazy person to "Jai Ho" by A. R. Rahman. Really, not much to do with this chapter, but it kept me entertained ;) I figured I'd share.**

**So…reviews are like hugs. *Sigh* I'm off to another wedding (this is the third one in 3 months!) so hopefully I'm not the next one to get felt up by drunk groomsmen. :P Leave me some comments to come back to?**


	11. Crabby Dinner, Goodnights, & Jupiter

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but it owns my ass, apparently, or I wouldn't be writing this! Oh, and I also don't own the line from the novel that I borrowed-the "I'm good at repressing things" one. Don't sue me, please?**

**If anyone read the teaser for what was supposed to be this chapter-it's coming in Chapter 12. Don't say I didn't warn you that it might happen! So, this isn't the angst-filled, dramatic, crazy-emotional chapter that I set you up for…sorry, again? But I figured instead of waiting any longer, I'd at least give you all this and not make you wait an extra week for me to finish. Or however long it will take. You know me. *Hides behind a big strong wall* Really, thank you for being patient and for all the love that was sent. I barely responded to anyone because I was trying to get my ass in gear and finish writing, but I read every message and review, and trust me-my heart danced. I have such lovely readers. Much love : )**

**Bucketfuls of thanks and caffeine to Emilie Fauve, for without her, this chapter wouldn't have made it out alive.**

**So…that's all I've got. ;)**

-:-

I dreamt of nothing but swirling, blurry colors. The miasma changed rapidly, switching from bland to calm, to cool. Mostly I felt as though I was in the state between asleep and awake, unable to make up my mind as to where I'd rather be. I'd been mindful in my dream states before, and usually could manipulate them to my advantage, and I could only _imagine_ the kinky possibilities since I met Edward. However, something was telling me to come out of my cloud of unconsciousness…almost like a voice…

Blearily, I blinked myself awake to find that it _was_ a voice: Edward's voice. Only he wasn't speaking…he was moaning. My room had grown dark, and if I hadn't remembered that he'd fallen asleep next to me, I wouldn't have known that he was there.

"Edward?" I said softly. He didn't answer. The lamp was next to his side of the bed, so I couldn't flip it on without moving. I slid out of bed and walked blindly around to the night table. With my luck, if I had tried reaching across the bed to reach the lamp, I would have lost my balance and crash-landed on top of him. That would have been awkward to explain, seeing as how I'd already pulled him into bed with me once; being _atop_ him would probably freak him out for good. When I reached the night table, I felt for the lamp and switched it on, squinting through the glow and down at Edward. He'd barely moved an inch since I had last closed my eyes.

Quietly retreating to the opposite side of the bed, I climbed back in and wrapped my arms around a pillow, sticking another under my head to add to the height as I studied his face. He was dead to the world, but even in sleep he appeared unsettled. His forehead was tautly creased and his body twitched slightly before he faintly moaned again. He was dreaming…or having a nightmare.

_Wake him up before it's too late._

I hesitated, unwilling to wake him without knowing. It could have been midnight, but even that didn't seem like enough sleep for him-not after the mostly-all-nighter he had pulled, plus running around for more than half the day. He shifted and his arm slid upward, under the pillows, and I heard his hand tap the headboard. Maybe that was the sound I had heard that first night, only he must have done it much harder to have created such a clamor.

I reached out and touched his shoulder. I rubbed it gently, thinking that maybe it would cause his tension to subside, or at least divert his dream into something different or good if it was taking a darker path. His lips moved as if he were speaking, but no sound came out. I was almost disappointed-he'd gotten to hear me blabber unconsciously, after all. I wondered how tactful he had been when he mentioned that I said his name in my sleep…had I really just let a soft, little "_Edward…_" slip? He was probably just being polite; I most likely said something along the lines of "_Edward, get naked_," and he decided to let it slide because he was still feeling _responsible_.

He suddenly jerked in his sleep, flinching away from my touch and a loud slam made me jump back in alarm. He'd hit my headboard again with enough force to make the bed shake. I hoped he hadn't just broken a knuckle.

"Edward?" I said close to his ear, shaking him gently. His breathing was quickly growing irregular, and as I swept his hair out of his eyes, I felt a brush of cool sweat on my fingers.

_Okay. He's definitely not dreaming about Candy Land or any of that happy-go-lucky shit._

I shook him again and within a few seconds, he wrenched himself awake and recoiled from the contact, clearly startled. I withdrew my hand quickly as he gasped and stared at me, his eyes wide with fearful clarity. I stared back nervously, unsure of what to do next and he promptly pushed himself up into a sitting position. I slowly followed suit and timidly twisted my hair around my forefinger. When I finally got the nerve to peek at him again, he had his eyes narrowed to the wall, as if contemplating his next move.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, right as I opened my mouth to say the exact same thing. He slid his legs off the bed and sat with his back to me, breathing deeply as he composed himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked, once again feeling as though I'd interrupted a private moment of his. "I didn't mean to scare you. I wasn't sure if I should wake you…I didn't want to-"

"No, I'm glad you _did_," he said with a hint of relief, pushing his hands through his hair. He turned to look at me, thankfully appearing less distressed. "Thank you."

"Sure," I said, still playing with my hair. _Just ask, already._ "So…nightmare?"

Edward nodded swiftly, looking thoughtfully at the bed. "Yes. I should have known I'd end up having one."

He actually looked embarrassed! _I_ was the one who had probably recited dirty poetry to him in my slumbering throes of racy dreams, and yet _he_ was self-conscious for having a little nightmare. An indecipherable, inaudible nightmare that I was monstrously curious about. Renée had given me a book on dream interpretation for my twentieth birthday. If only I'd gotten around to reading it, I might actually have been able to contribute some help if he let me inside his head.

_Who do you think you are, Sylvia Brown? Because I'm **sure**__ he'd be stunned silly by your ability to call upon the dream gods! Idiot._

"Were you dreaming about your neighbor?" I asked attentively, remembering that he'd told me about the kid who had been haunting his dreams the night we met. I didn't want to upset him, but I was too interested to not ask any questions.

"No," he said, standing up slowly and rubbing his shoulder. "I'm not really sure what it was. You pulled me out of it before anything could happen."

_Jesus, what __**usually**__ happened? _He'd already been agitated, panting, and sweating-if he wasn't sure what was going on _then_, I hated to think of what would have come later.

"Oh…that's good, I guess," I said, getting out of bed and pulling my hair away from my neck, feeling the slight tangles that always came with sleep. The heavy fatigue that had been plaguing me earlier in the day had faded and I felt unexpectedly awake. I looked around for my cell phone to check the time, but as always, Edward was one step ahead of me.

"It's only quarter after seven," he said, stealing a look at his watch. "It feels later, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, surprised that it was so early. Ha. Technically, I still had at least four and a half hours left with him if he didn't decide to go collapse on his own bed. It would be difficult not to follow him…or press my ear up against the wall between our rooms like a shady lunatic. "Are you still tired?"

Edward made a sound that could have been a laugh if it had actually contained some kind of amusement. "Not exactly. Are you?"

I shook my head. "I'm kind of hungry, actually," I said reluctantly. The guy probably thought that all I ever thought about was food, even if I had stuck to a liquid diet all day like I'd been ordered.

"Oh, right-you haven't eaten, have you?" he said. "They serve until nine o'clock in the dining hall. Would you like to go downstairs and have dinner?"

Inwardly, my sassy side squealed like a cheerleader. If I was being precise, this was the second time he'd asked me to go eat with him.

"Sure," I said, trying not to appear too overexcited. "You don't mind?"

"No," he said, giving me a half-smile. "I haven't eaten either. I was too busy having a stroke over this." He patted his back pocket.

_Ha. I'm going crazy over your ass, too._

"Right," I replied, thankful that my cheeks didn't flush and give me away. "Do you mind giving me a minute to fix my hair?"

"Yeah, of course," he answered, taking a step toward the door. "Take your time. I'm going to go change."

"Why?" I asked, wondering how he could possibly think that he needed to clean up when he still looked incredible. "We don't have to dress formally, do we?"

"Oh…no," said Edward, looking down at himself. "I just…feel a bit grungy. After running around all day, I suppose."

If this was what _grungy_ looked like, I'd probably be stunned to death if I could see what his idea of _dressed up _was. "Okay," I said, suddenly feeling the need to change my clothes, too-particularly my underwear. I was all too aware that I'd been constantly turned on by him, and just to be safe, I'd be better off _freshening up _all parts of myself. How humiliating. "Meet you downstairs?"

"Sure," he said. "See you in a bit."

After he left, I let out a ridiculously loud sigh and sat on my bed, taking a moment to once again reflect on the past few days…and the past few hours. It was incredibly strange to think that if I'd stayed in Jacksonville, I never would have crossed paths with such an intriguing, surreptitious stranger. I'd probably be listening to rock music with depressing lyrics, doing endless crossword puzzles, or reading a crappy romance novel in my boring, roommate-less, two-bedroom apartment. My friends-especially my ex-would die when they found out that I had actually met someone new in the rainiest, middle-of-nowhere town on the map.

_Don't jump the gun, spazz. It's not as if they'll ever meet him-don't expect him to follow you back to the Sunshine State. Besides, it's not like you'll both be sticking around long enough to get __**that**__ close._

Like Doris had said earlier, Edward had paid for a month's stay without planning on staying the whole time…and Angela said that he'd been there for over two weeks. His departure would inevitably be coming up soon…only I had no idea when he was planning to leave or why he was even here in Forks in the first place. It made me crazy to think that I'd received all this information from everyone _but_ Edward. Dinner conversation topic number one: find out what he's doing here.

_Get dressed, damn it! _

I decided not to agonize over an outfit-I chose another pair of jeans and pulled on the only somewhat-chic black top I'd brought, thinking that I might as well play it safe in case the other guests _did_ dress formally for dinner. It had long sleeves, so it was anything but a downtown kind of shirt, though, the neckline was slightly lower than the rest of my tops. At least it didn't scream Jessica Stanley. I was still skank-free.

After convincing my hair to behave, I gave my makeup a quick touch-up and finally gave in to applying mascara. I even gave myself a squirt of some flowery body spray called _Sensual Summer _that Renée had stuffed into my bag. I was becoming more girly by the minute. _Damn him._

After I felt a little more presentable, I walked out into the hall and made for the stairwell, figuring Edward had probably only taken thirty seconds to get ready, compared to my seven minutes. I had almost reached the stairs when I heard it.

"Mike, this is _not_ funny!"

_Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me._

I instantly darted to the very same pillar behind which Edward had previously pulled me. Lauren's voice was hissing down from the opposite hallway and I scrunched up my face in disgust, certain that I would most likely lose my desire for food if I was going to be subjected to…_listening_ to them again.

"Fuck this reception," she hissed. "I can barely hear you. Are you still there?"

_The phone. Thank God. No fourth-floor-fuck-fest. I was safe._

"No, I didn't go to the doctor!" I heard her say. "Are you joking? I'm not going to _Jessica's__ dad _for this!"

I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the hell she was whispering about. God…I hoped she wasn't pregnant. Poor unborn kid.

"_Yes,"_ I heard her whisper harshly into the phone. "Just _you._ No, I didn't! Are you joking? …_Because it looks just like the picture, that's how I know!"_

Whatever they were fighting about, I suddenly didn't want to know. I just wanted to go downstairs unscathed, both physically and audibly.

"Mike, if you gave me fucking syphilis, I swear to _God-"_

_Ha! No! Holy shit! She had an __**STD**__! _I bit down on my tongue and pressed my hand over my face so that I couldn't breathe-if I let even the smallest bit of air out, it would incontestably turn into a raging fit of snorting giggles that would be impossible to control.

"_Well, _if I didn't get it from you, then I must have magically fucked someone else unconsciously!" Lauren hissed.

_Lauren's hidden talent: accidental hookering. That __**was**__ special._

I listened to her prattle on for another few hilarious minutes that were reminiscent of a cross between Jerry Springer and Medical Mysteries. I could barely contain myself from screaming, "Ha! That's what you _get_, you fourth-floor whore!" So, dinner conversation number two: Lauren's crabby panties. Although that might make Edward lose his appetite, it was just too good to keep to myself.

When the opportunity arose-that is, after Lauren stomped downstairs-I descended the staircase as soon as she was out of sight. I giggled all the way down, even jumping down the last few steps with a lighthearted bounce. I didn't even trip, either. Edward was waiting for me in the lobby, glancing over a few of the bookshelves. He was dressed in a glorious-looking white button-down shirt and dark jeans; I could have salivated. When he spotted me, he stared at me for a few moments before walking in my direction. As he approached me, he gave me a strange look, probably wondering what the hell I found so hysterical.

"I'll tell you later," I said with a grin.

He gave me a slight smile. "You've got me intrigued."

"Wow. I've intrigued the most mysterious person I know," I teased. "I think I deserve a 'congratulations.'"

_Congratulations, as in __**kiss me**__._

Thankfully, Edward didn't glare and his eyes didn't darken in annoyance; he merely gave me a slight eye-roll, put his hand on my back, and led me down a hallway that I hadn't yet explored. As we walked, I stiffened a bit as I saw Jessica standing by the entrance of what I presumed to be the dining hall.

"Be brave, Bella," said Edward in an amused voice. "She's just a little snot. No pun intended."

I groaned quietly. "Angela promised to tell Tom not to let her touch my food. She never got the chance to speak with him before she left for work…"

"Don't worry," he replied casually. "Jessica wouldn't dare."

"She did once," I protested in a whisper. "What makes you think that she'd think twice about doing it again?"

"Just trust me," he said, giving me a bit of a crooked grin.

I walked slowly, still doubtful, but he had a sudden glint in his eyes that made me curious. "You…you didn't _say_ something to her, did you?"

He shrugged his shoulders almost too nonchalantly. My mouth fell open. "You _did!" _I said under my breath. "What did you say?"

"I don't have the slightest idea what you mean, Bella," Edward said, grinning wider-the kind of smile that turned me into a blobby mess of hormones. He had to practically push me down the rest of the hallway as I stuttered indistinctly over my words, not sure if I should cringe or laugh. I was shocked to see Jessica slump her shoulders a bit as we approached the door. Even in the company of her apparent resentment, she seemed a little…_embarrassed_.

"Evening, Jessica," Edward said pleasantly.

"Hi, Edward," she mumbled, looking a bit like a child who'd just been scolded. She turned to me, not nearly scowling at me as much as she always had before, but the loathing was still faintly laced in her voice as she spoke my name. "_Bella_."

I bit back a snort. "_Stanley_," I replied.

As Jessica's lips curled into a disgruntled frown, Edward quickly said, "We'll sit at my usual table, if that's okay." He gave me a push into the dining hall and once we were out of her earshot, he nudged my arm. "Antagonist," he said, smirking.

"I tried my best," I said, returning the smile.

I was a little apprehensive as I looked around and found that there was sea of khaki pants around us, along with numerous people wearing long-sleeved polo shirts, blouses, and printed sweaters. _Little woodsy country club. _I was beginning to think that Edward and I were the only guests who owned pairs of jeans; although, we were the only ones who seemed to be under the age of forty-five.

The dining hall was similar to the café's decor: square tables, blue tablecloths, hardwood floors…the only thing that was different was that the number of tables had tripled. Chandeliers, much like the one in my room, hung throughout the ceiling, giving off a lovely luminosity. We sat at a table to the left of another enormous fireplace. Though it was stunning, in my opinion, the one in Edward's room was superior.

"So, you have a _usual_ table?" I asked as we got settled. "What are you, a clandestine hotel critic?"

Edward gave me an amused glance. "You've discovered me."

I sighed, wishing that were true. I tugged nervously at my neckline, suddenly feeling self-conscious in my minutely low-cut black shirt with all the creamy pastel colors around me. It was fall, for God's sake!

Edward gave me a diminutive smile. "You're not honestly worried about what you're wearing, are you?"

Not a mind reader, my ass. I took a glance around the room and several people were blinking back at me. I turned away shyly, and looked back to Edward. "People are staring at me," I said, feeling more awkward now that I realized I had an audience.

He glanced around and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I don't think they're staring at you. I think they're staring at _us_."

"Well, why?" I asked, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. I never did appreciate unwanted attention.

"If anything, they're probably speculating about why you're sitting with me," said Edward, as if it was plainly evident. "I haven't exactly been the talkative sort. They probably think I paid you to hang out with me."

"Ha," I said. "Or they think that I'm your escort."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past some people," he said, his eyes suddenly falling upon something/someone in the corner behind me. I followed his gaze only to see Lauren pressed up against the far wall, scowling. I almost turned away at once, but then, ever-so-subtlety, Lauren shifted her hips and winced as she crossed one leg in front of the other. _Mental snort! _I quickly whipped my head back around and broke out into another grin before I could try to hinder it. "What?" Edward asked, mirroring my smile.

I shook my head. It was too soon-I was afraid that I'd lose my control and break into obnoxious giggles. "I…just…remind me to tell you something later."

"You can't tell me now?" he asked, glancing around us, as if showing me that no one was listening.

_Oh, so it makes you curious to know what I'm thinking? How unfair of __**me**__ to keep my mouth closed, you unsolved mystery!_

"Later is better," I said, reaching for a menu.

Edward looked behind me again. "Perhaps you're right."

Before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps and Lauren suddenly appeared at my side and began filling up our water glasses. I pushed my lips together and stared widely at Edward, wishing he could read my mind _now_. _Slutty-pants has herpes!_

"Edward, Bella," greeted Lauren, her voice surprisingly missing its usual disdain. "What can I get you to drink?"

Edward ordered coffee, of course, and then they both looked at me. I inwardly debated. Normally, I would have ordered iced tea, but spit blended in far too well with liquid to be seen. Lauren had filled _both_ of our glasses…and I was pretty sure that any "extra ingredients" were meant for only me. Plus, the water pitcher was communal, right?

"Water's fine," I finally said. Just in case.

"Okay," Lauren said indifferently, and then peered at me curiously. "What happened to your head, Bella?"

_Which time?_

"Um…I-I fell and hit my head," I said, shocked that the word hadn't gotten around…and that Lauren cared enough to ask. I decided to leave out the whole 'hit by a car' explanation. I'd rather be thought of as a klutz than a complete human mishap.

"Oh, okay," she said with a slight shrug. "Do you need a few minutes with the menu?"

"Yes, please," said Edward, giving her a polite smile. After Lauren had walked away, he looked at me. "Well, that was relatively normal."

"I guess she has other things on her mind," I said with a giggle. _Or in her underwear._ I briefly considered skipping my planned number one conversation so I could get to the good part, but Lauren was already on her way back to our table with a coffee pot in her hand.

And then, because my life could never seem to pause for a uncomplicated moment, someone else who I never thought I'd see again happened to walk into the dining hall.

"Hey, babe!" the boy called, and to my surprise, Lauren turned around at the sound of the voice.

"Tyler?" she said, halting her steps and looking strangely at the guy as he walked toward her. I couldn't help but gawk. It was the very same brown-haired guy whose car I'd bounced off of the previous night. And he had called Lauren "babe." _Tyler_. Her boyfriend.

Fuck me.

"What are you doing here?" Lauren asked him in a hushed voice as he reached her side.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked me, noticing my sudden jaw-drop and his voice pulled my attention away from the couple as they started talking. They were standing behind Edward, where he couldn't see.

"I…I-this is-oh, God," I muttered, glancing back over at Lauren and her boy-toy before promptly lowering my eyes to the table as Tyler looked in my direction. "I just want a _normal_ day."

Edward continued to stare at me, clearly confused, and then I heard Lauren hiss from across the room, "You did _what_? To _her_?"

I covered my eyes with one hand and sighed heavily. I knew what was coming next. I felt Edward touch my arm.

"What is it? Your head?" he asked, concerned.

"No," I mumbled, not bringing my hand away from my face. "It's…my _luck_." I still had time to run. If I tried, perhaps I could spill my water glass and make an excuse to go to the bathroom. I could pretend to pass out-though, that might earn me too much attention and possibly cause Edward to call 911. I _could_ knock over the center candle and catch the tablecloth on fire. No one would question it; I was a walking/sitting disaster, after all. But before I could do any of those things…

"Hey," Tyler's now-familiar, concerned voice sounded from my left. "Bella, right? I can't believe it's you."

I finally lifted my hand off my eyes to find Tyler and Lauren standing by the side of our table. A look of realization came over Edward's face and I stared at all three of them, at a loss for words.

_Say hello, genius!_

"Oh-um, hi," I said to Tyler, nodding. "How's…how's your car?" I was suddenly very aware that Lauren had resumed her vicious scowl and was now looking at Tyler as though he just ran over her dog. My stomach churned uncomfortably.

"My car? It's fine!" he said with a kind smile, and then placed his hand on my shoulder. "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am-again. I felt horrible last night…I mean…how are _you_ doing?"

Lauren stared at Tyler's hand resting on my shoulder with a piercing glare and suddenly directed her gaze to me. I shrank back a bit in my seat, preparing myself to start feeling the effects of turning to stone.

"Uh…um, I'm fine, really. No harm done," I answered, trying to smile. _Now please stop touching me before your girlfriend throws that pot of coffee in my face._ The way she was standing with such scalding liquid in a glass container seemed potentially lethal.

"That's a relief," said Tyler. "I'm really glad you're okay. Small world, isn't it, Laur?" He looked from me his girlfriend to me with a nervous smile, probably because Lauren was boring holes through us both. Tyler then pulled his head back in surprise as if just noticing Edward, who had been sitting patiently in silence. "Hey, man! I didn't even recognize you in dry clothes."

Edward shook Tyler's hand. "Hey, Tyler. Yeah, I think we're all looking a little better today. How did everything go last night?"

"Not bad," Tyler said, leaning on one of the unoccupied chairs and looking as though he'd known us for years. "A lot of paperwork from the police, mostly. I told them everything I saw-same story as yours. I don't think those assholes will press charges, not after what the cops were saying. How's your hand?"

"It's fine," said Edward. "Yours?"

Tyler lifted his hand with a grin, and I gaped when I saw that it was slightly swollen and red, just as Edward's was. "It's feeling burly," said Tyler. "It felt good to hit that jerk."

My face went blood red as Lauren responded in a harsh voice. "What the hell did you _do_, Tyler?"

"I told you already-you never listen," Tyler said with an agitated huff. "Edward backhanded some guy who was practically on top of him, and then the moron tried to dive at him again, so I grabbed him and punched him in the eye."

"You _hit_ a guy?" Lauren repeated.

"He deserved it after what he did to Bella," Tyler responded, his eyes shining from the story, as if he had enjoyed himself. "Drunk bastard. Anyway, I'm glad everything is okay. I'll tell you what, man…I've never seen such a big guy go down so fast. You pack a hell of a punch. So do I, though," he added with a laugh.

Tyler looked absurdly proud of himself. Edward looked somewhere between embarrassed and satisfied. Lauren looked like the girl from the Exorcist. And I looked like…a beet.

"Here, babe," said Tyler, pulling a small badge out of his pocket. "Mike said you left this in his car. He said he drove you home the other night?"

"Oh," said Lauren, breaking her Medusa stare from me for a moment as she took the badge from him. "Yeah…remember, I got stuck working late? He was closing the store, so…"

_Yeah, you were "working" late, all right, you tramp._ Tyler seemed like a nice enough guy. It suddenly made me angry and disgusted that she was blatantly lying to his face and cheating behind his back. Edward appeared as uncomfortable as I was.

"Cool," said Tyler. "I've got to run back over to his store, anyway. He's freaking out about something. I don't know what his problem is."

_Impending fire ants in his pants, probably._

"Edward, good to see you again," said Tyler, holding his hand out to shake Edward's again. "And Bella-again-I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault, really," I said. "I'm fine. Don't blame yourself." _Don't sleep with your girlfriend, either, if you know what's good for you. _I needed to call Angela. All this information definitely did not belong in my hands.

Lauren walked away with Tyler after we said goodbye, and I sighed. "Nice guy," I remarked.

Edward nodded. "I'm glad he was there…except the part where he hit you with his car, of course."

I felt my face grow warm again. "He didn't really hit me…I ran into _him_, technically. So…you're not in trouble…are you?" I asked as I watched Edward absentmindedly run his fingers over his sore knuckles. The swelling had seemed to flare back up and his hand still looked a bit raw-probably from unconsciously punching my headboard. "I mean-with the police?"

He chuckled, seeming amused. "No. I don't think I'll be in trouble. Favor was on our side." He sighed, quickly flip-flopping back into seriousness. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"I'm fine," I said honestly. "I just feel like I fell down. Nothing that I haven't felt before."

"Not only that, though," said Edward. "I mean, are you _okay_? From what happened?"

"Huh?" I stared at him, confused.

He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I guess I meant are you doing okay…emotionally? After those men grabbed you and what you've been through before..."

"Oh," I said, beginning to play with my napkin, feeling a tad insecure. "Yeah, I'm fine. Honestly, I am. I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."

And there he went, staring at me with his deep, receptive eyes with such care and nostalgia-his gaze was so intense that I fumbled with my water glass as I took a drink, needing something to cool me off. It was sweet that he cared to ask, even if it did remind him that I was still hauling around a bag of emotional wreckage.

"Thank you for listening to me," I said quietly. "It felt good to talk to someone-to have someone to confide in. I mean, I'm sorry-I hope I didn't give you an extra burden to carry around."

"Bella," said Edward, sighing lightly and shaking his head. "I really wish you didn't think of yourself as some kind of nuisance. You're not. I'm just glad you let me be there for you. Like I said before, anything to make you feel better…I'm here if you ever need to talk to someone. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Though his words sent my heart into a yearning pound, I felt my fists begin to ball. _You're a smart guy, Edward! Take your own advice! Tell him that goes for him, too. Tell him that you're there in case he ever wants to talk. Tell him thank you! Tell him anything, damn it!_

I opened my mouth to finally speak.

"Well, look at you two!"

And then promptly closed it. Doris.

"I'd been wondering if you both were ever going to show your faces in here," Doris said sweetly as she appeared at our table. "My, my. You two are the envy of the dining room, I must say. Such a cute couple."

_Kill me now. Kill. Me. Now._

My face instantly flushed, but Doris paid no attention. I sometimes wondered if she said such things on purpose. "Mr. Masen, I'm glad to see you looking better. You were in such a tizzy this morning…did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes," he replied, giving her a warm smile. "Thanks to Bella."

He grinned at me (a real one, too) and I started to protest, only to be cut off.

"Oh, well, how _wonderful_!" said Doris. "Charlie was absolutely right about you, dear. Such a sweetheart. And helpful, too. What other delightful qualities do you have, Isabella?"

"Oh, I-I really didn't-I just-I'm-" _Not a public speaker, that's for sure_. I sighed quietly and took another sip of water to try to lower my body temperature.

"You know, Charlie mentioned that you used to take ballet lessons, too," Doris continued, patting my shoulder. I choked on my water. "How lovely would it be for you to take the floor on one of our talent nights as a dancer! Maybe Mr. Masen could even play the piano for you."

I couldn't even speak-or breathe. I was certain that I had turned reddish-purple, that my appearance would have scared small children.

"Well, I'll let you think about that, dear," said Doris, patting my shoulder as I coughed and sputtered. "Has Lauren taken your order, yet?"

"No, not yet," said Edward, coming to my rescue and speaking for me. I was mortified at his amused expression.

"Let me go find her," said Doris. "I saw her here earlier…she's been so flighty this evening…flitting around like she has ants in her pants."

_Stole my thoughts, Doris._

Doris practically skipped away and I looked at anything and everything before I felt sure that my face had returned to a normal color. I slowly peeked up at Edward. He had his fist to his mouth and was gazing at me with comic interest. He took a short breath and then asked, "Did you wear a tutu?"

"_Shut up_," I hissed, feeling my face skyrocket with more heat. Forever taking me by surprise, Edward laughed, his face lighting up like brilliant sunlight, making me forget my embarrassment and begin to mirror his mood. "You get a kick out of watching me squirm, don't you?" I asked, fighting a grin.

His laughter slowed and he continued to smile, melting my insides to pure slush. "It's your expression," he said, chuckling. "Look at you. You want to smile, I can tell."

"I do not," I said, adamantly pushing my lips together, resisting the urge to giggle along with him. He just shook his head, continuing to laugh to himself and give me small glances. I couldn't say that I minded. So much for dinner conversation number one; I didn't want to say anything that might erase that smile off of his face. He looked _happy_, for once-I liked seeing him that way. If we had been alone, it would have been immensely difficult to fight the urge to curl up inside his arms again.

We were comfortably silent until Lauren _and_ Doris walked back over to the table, which was a nice relief.

"So, dears," began Doris, as Lauren began filling Edward's coffee cup, "Tom has a salmon special with whipped sweet potatoes or a crab cake platter with an avocado salad and cocktail sauce. And we have the regular menu as well. You can have a few minutes to decide, of course."

"Thank you, Doris," I said, hoping that she would be the one to retrieve anything I ordered from the kitchen. Lauren seemed a little more conniving than Jessica; to her, spitting probably seemed like child's play. I'd probably end up with a razor blade or bleach in my food if Lauren was the one carrying my plate.

"Goodness, Lauren," said Doris. "You have such a scowl on your face. Haven't you brought them any rolls yet?"

"No, I'm sorry," Lauren mumbled, making sure that she didn't make eye contact with me. Her disdain would have been far too obvious in front of Doris. Even _she_ wasn't stupid enough to be rude to me in front of her boss. "I'll get them in a second."

Doris clicked her tongue. "For heaven's sake," she said, walking over to a cart a few feet away that was loaded with baskets of rolls, and brought one back to our table. "Aren't you feeling well, Lauren? It's as though you're in a different place tonight."

Lauren didn't answer-she only refilled my water glass. Edward and I shared a glance and he blew on his coffee before raising it to his lips. I bit my lip and looked at Doris. This was awkward.

Doris sighed. "Well, goodness, what's wrong, dear? Cat's got your tongue?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "Crabs got your snatch?"

I hadn't actually meant to say anything aloud, and I jerked in my seat as soon as it came out of my mouth. Lauren's mouth dropped and for the second time, I caused Edward to choke on his coffee. Luckily for me, Doris had turned to the next table to greet a guest and had missed my inappropriate remark, but Lauren's fingers tightened around the coffee pot's handle so tightly, I thought she was going to throw it. Or perhaps _actually_ break it over my head this time.

Doris turned back to our table after a moment and stared strangely at the sight of all three of us. Lauren was fuming, Edward was hiding his face with his hand, and I was biting my tongue, trying not to convulse while containing a fit of mirth.

"Is everything all right?" Doris asked, seeing Lauren staring daggers at me.

_God, Bella, control your verbal vomit! _I berated myself, handing Edward a napkin and giving Doris a smile. "Just deliberating out loud, Doris. I was thinking about getting a crab cake, that's all."

"Oh," said Doris, completely oblivious and grinning back. "Tom makes fine crab cakes. That's a good choice, dear! Do you enjoy crabs, Mr. Masen?"

Edward coughed loudly and I lost it, shamelessly bursting out into a bout of laughter. Lauren was flushing red now; I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she plotted out my murder. And I didn't even give a damn. I raised my eyebrows at Lauren in a mocking manner.

_That's right, Lady Marmalade. I know all about your two-minute tryst and your problems down under._

Doris watched me and Edward in merriment and chuckled. "I see. Private joke, I suppose. So, is that a yes for the crab cake platters?"

I nodded, wiping tears from my eyes, still giggling. Edward nodded as well and even though he still his hand over half of his face, I could see that his eyes were crinkled in amusement.

"Lovely!" Doris said, squeezing my shoulder as well as Edward's. "Well, then, let's move along, Lauren, and leave these two lovebirds to themselves."

The term _lovebirds_ caused me to sober up from my enjoyment rather quickly, but I still couldn't help but let a few more giggles slip out. I took a quick sip of water and peeked at Edward. He was staring at me, his eyes wide with hilarity as he took a small breath. "It's dangerous for me to drink anything around you."

"I'm _sorry_," I said, biting my lip, still trying to keep my smile under control. "I don't know where that came from."

Edward grinned and rubbed his forehead, giving me a glance. "You're kind of unpredictable, you know that?"

_Uttering vulgarity, managing to knock my head into every solid object in sight whether it was moving or not, having a soap-opera-like back story, and owning penguin-printed unmentionables…yeah, I supposed I was surprising at times. _I finally let Edward in on Lauren's phone call that I'd overheard, giving him a slightly cleaner version of what I'd had to listen to.

Edward shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What goes around comes around, I suppose. Quite literally."

"Yeah, though I guess now I should just eat the rolls to be safe," I said, pushing my hair behind my ears. "There's no way that she took my comment as a coincidence."

"I'll switch plates with you if you're nervous," said Edward, looking towards the kitchen door. "I could always say something to Doris, you know."

"No, don't you dare," I said quickly. "They'll probably slash my tires."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I should, though. No one has the right to do something like that. Especially to you."

Edward Masen, in all his protecting glory. But I wasn't about to cause some sort of fuss, whether it came from his mouth or not. I'd had an exciting enough week-I was glad to postpone a cat fight for at least a few more days. _Change the subject!_

"Does anyone ever call you Eddie?" I asked quickly.

I was successful in distracting him as he blinked and laughed softly. "Not since I was six years old. Why?"

"Just wondering," I said, reaching for a roll.

Edward took another sip of coffee. "Did anyone ever call you Bellie?"

I chuckled, but cringed at my father's old nickname for me. "Charlie did," I said. "I was a chunky two-year-old. He calls me 'Bells' now. Thank God." I chewed a piece of bread and thought for a moment. "What about Ed?"

Edward picked up a roll and slowly broke a piece off. "A few guys in college would call me that. Mostly, they used my last name, especially after working at the law firm. My father was Edward, too, so it got confusing-they just stuck with 'Masen.'"

"That's nice," I said. Although I had only known him for a few days, I couldn't imagine switching to any other name. Just Edward. It suited him well.

"I guess," he said after eating a bite of his roll. "I don't know; I think Masen makes me sound like some chubby kid with a brick in his hand."

I laughed, thinking of how I had originally had a similar thought when he first learned my name. "What's your middle name?" I asked, continuing the name game.

He clutched his coffee mug. "Guess," he said.

_As if I need another guess to make about you!_ I sighed and thought for a moment, going over names in my head that might fit with 'Edward.' "Adam?" I guessed.

He shook his head.

"James?"

Another no.

I narrowed my eyes, then smiled. "Frankincense?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, reflecting my smile. "That's child abuse."

I had several more giggle fits as I came up with names that were practically ancient, and I never did guess correctly. He never gave me the answer, either; I was beginning to think that he enjoyed keeping me in suspense. Our food came soon after, carried by Doris, so I had no qualms about consuming anything on my plate and didn't have to thoroughly inspect each bite.

Conversation came easily; I never did get around to asking how long he was staying. I was starting to think that he might interpret such a simple question as desperation on my part. I had pried at him enough; if he wanted to tell me, I would have to wait. And if I was being honest, I was suddenly hesitant to find out the answer. Anything less than a week would have depressed me-I wasn't ready to see him go so soon. Though, I couldn't shake the feeling that he would suddenly disappear in the middle of the night without giving so much as a goodbye. Albeit his mood had considerably lightened, I still didn't miss the unplumbed amount of reservation in his eyes.

I decided not to think about it too much, even as we trekked up the grueling four flights of stairs to our rooms. We were officially about to say goodnight…and I was ridiculously embarrassed that I was actually nervous about it.

_It's a simple "Goodnight, Edward," and then you're done. Don't look him straight in the eyes, or you might fall sideways again. Maybe just a hug. Or not. See what he does first. _My thoughts were bordering on just plain _absurd_. I felt the urge to inwardly shout "_Shut up!"_ just to be able to think straight.

Lost in my deliberation, I misjudged my step and stumbled. Edward caught me by the arms and I sheepishly stared up into his eyes.

_Good God, why did you look at his __**eyes**__, of all things?_

"Geez, Bella," he said, lifting me to my feet effortlessly and steadying me. "Next time, shall I just toss you on my back and carry you up?"

"Sorry," I muttered, keeping my hand firmly on the railing as we climbed the last few stairs. "You can just let me fall, you know. I've been picking myself back up for years. I'm used to it."

Edward sighed as we reached the top floor. "You shouldn't have to," he said quietly.

I rolled my eyes. "Edward," I said meekly, "That wasn't a metaphor. I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me."

"I don't," he said quickly, giving me a rueful look. "It's quite the opposite, actually. You astonish me."

If we had still been climbing the stairs, I might have tripped again. I gave him a dumbfounded stare, having been rendered speechless. _Had I heard him correctly? How the hell could I astonish **him**? With my ability to trip over my own feet, perhaps?_

"I realize that I don't know you as well as your family or friends," he said, taking a few steps toward his door. "But what I've discovered about you in the past few days is simply remarkable. You're shy, but you've got a vibrant intensity about you. You're brave and emotionally strong-much more so than I would have ever thought you to be. Plus, you're completely hysterical and witty; you make me laugh, which doesn't exactly come easy for me these days. Even your clumsiness has character."

I laughed softly, figuring that I was blushing beyond belief. I'd been doing it so much recently that my cheeks always felt much warmer than normal; it was hard to tell the difference anymore.

"You gave me a chance even after I was a complete jerk when we met," he continued in a mellow voice and leaned against the wall between our rooms, leaving me to stand in parallel as I tried not to swoon on my feet again. "And you continued to accept me even when you thought I wasn't accepting you."

_Are you going to __**speak**__ anytime soon? Don't just stare at him!_

"Honestly, Bella…you're not like anyone I've ever met before."

I still couldn't make my mouth work. I was half-debating that I when I'd tripped, I'd knocked my head on something and I was now unconscious, leaving my imagination to conjure up this noteworthy delusion.

He smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat, immediately plunging his fingers through his hair. "Sorry," he said, mistaking my nebulous look as something negative. "If I'm not saying enough, I'm saying too much."

"What? No, you-" I started to say, scrambling for the right words to tell him that I thought the exact same way about him, but he interrupted me.

"Hopefully you'll get a full night's sleep, finally," he said quickly, almost determinedly stubborn about not accepting any kind of compliment in return. "I'll sleep on my floor; maybe that will keep me from waking you up in the middle of the night."

He said it with a halfhearted smile, but my eyes widened in unease. "Don't you _dare_ sleep on the floor," I said firmly, using the best mom-voice I could muster. Not only was that ridiculous, but his bed was far too awesome to ignore.

"I'm kidding, sort of," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So…do you think you'll be okay tonight? Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I said with a lighthearted shrug. "Though, I'm a little worried about my safety. I wouldn't be surprised if Jessica and Lauren are hiding in my shower, ready to stab me with something. If you hear any screaming, you'll know what's going on." I smiled jokingly before reaching in my pocket for my key.

"You know, I wouldn't have called management," Edward suddenly blurted out.

I looked up at him. "Huh?"

He raked a hand through his chestnut hair and sighed. "Remember what we talked about the day we met? If you had been the one screaming-crying-banging or anything…I wouldn't have called management. I would have broken down the door, fire poker in hand, ready to kick the shit out of anyone or anything that was hurting you."

Very slowly, my mouth curled into a slight smile.

"Of course, you probably would have gotten a restraining order on me later," he continued, putting his hands in his pockets, appearing almost shy. "That would have made it a lot harder for you to trust me, but…I doubt it would have stopped me from trying to get to know you."

"Oh?" I said quietly. My head was blissfully swimming, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He let his eyes drift to the floor again. "Yes. Although, you really should keep better company, Bella."

"Honestly, Edward," I said, my shoulders slumping at his self-doubt. "What kind of company could be better than yours?"

He chuckled darkly. "Anyone's."

_There he goes again. _I rolled my eyes. "You keep saying that, yet you have to go and dazzle me first with your little fire-poker-save-the-day speech."

His green eyes lit up for a moment. "Dazzle you?"

"Yes," I replied. "Besides, it's either you or Mr. Miller. My idea of an afternoon doesn't involve talks about the importance of fiber, the strategy of capturing the Queen, or whether or not I've kept my pants dry all morning."

Edward shook his head and laughed. "There's always Doris."

"Oh, well, you try having breakfast with her tomorrow and see how it feels to have your love life meddled with all by yourself."

_Oh, God, I did __**not**__ just say that out loud_.

Edward let out a quiet, "Ha," as if he didn't understand that the implied love interest was him.

My brow creased as I considered the thought that he might actually want some space. "Of course, if you really don't want to spend time with me, no one's forcing you, you know."

He straightened up and looked at me contritely. "You know I don't mean it like that."

"I guess," I said with a sigh. "Though, I still don't see why you give yourself such a hard time. And I'll never know, unless you finally decide to keep up your part of the bargain and tell me a little more about yourself."

He was quiet for a few moments as he shuffled his feet against the carpet. "I'm being conscientiously selfish, you know," he muttered. "By allowing myself to be open and honest with you is inconsiderate of your feelings. There's no other way to describe it, really."

"How is that being selfish and inconsiderate?" I wondered aloud. "That's _normal_, Edward. It's called human contact."

He played with his hair again and I had to suppress an urge to go to him and run my hands through it, too. "I can't explain it."

_Of course you can't_. I slowly blew my breath through my lips and took a step toward him. "Can you try?"

His chest visibly rose and fell as he took a deep breath. "Bella," he said, stepping closer to me until we were almost a foot apart. "I'll tell you this much. I'm-I'm not what you think. You've brought out a better side of me that I haven't seen in a long time and I can't tell you how _incredible_ that makes me feel." He reached over and brushed a strand of my hair away from my face and I swallowed quickly, trying to keep from squeaking as he let his hand linger on my cheek. "But I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me. I'm-I'm just…"

"Selfish?" I repeated, unable to help staring into his brilliant eyes that were bright with a familiar, heartbreaking sadness. "For being around me?"

"Yes," he nearly whispered, pushing his fingers into my hair and gently entwining them in my curls. Little heavenly chills were building at the base of my neck and felt ready to shoot through the rest of my body at any given moment.

Whatever he was getting at, I didn't know. I wasn't able to comprehensibly decipher the hidden boy-language that was behind it while being so immersed in his gaze. Without breaking eye contact, and also ignoring my madly thumping heart and flushed cheeks, I reached over and took his unoccupied hand in both of mine.

"Well, then I guess I'm selfish, too," I said, squeezing his hand tenderly.

Edward tilted his head downward to glance at my hands, then looked into my eyes with the most intensely passionate reconnaissance I'd ever seen from his breathtaking eyes.

"I really wish you had the sense to stay away from me," he murmured quietly.

I would have retorted something smart, but then, ever so slowly-in fact, so gradual that it almost made me ache-he leaned close to my face and my breath quietly whooshed out of me. My hands trembled slightly and I gripped his hand tighter, willing him to give in to the gap between us. I reluctantly closed my eyes as I felt his warm breath near my hair, and it was only a few seconds before I felt his soft lips tenderly touch my forehead.

_Oh, dear God. There went the chills; they'd skyrocketed through me and were now on Jupiter._

After a few heavenly moments, Edward pulled back slightly, taking his seraphic lips with him, and quietly whispered into my ear. "Goodnight, Bella."

He stepped back and I reluctantly let go of his hand. "Goodnight," I managed to say, although it was more of a glorified exhale. He gave me one last prehensile look before turning and walking to his door. I stared for only a moment and then quickly fumbled with my key. I unlocked my door with shaking hands, in awe of what had just happened.

_He kissed me_. Not a Ben-winning-the-bet kind of kiss, but he did it. And it was…_extraordinary_.

When I was out of sight and safely behind my bedroom door, I couldn't stop a shamefully brilliant smile from overtaking my face. I was never going to be able to sleep, now. And I definitely, _definitely_ needed a cold shower. Maybe two.

_Good night, indeed._

-:-

**So, funny things happen sometimes. I got nominated over at the Indie Twific Awards. Nuts, right? Thank you to whoever nominated me-that is beyond cool and flattering. Voting starts July 8th to the 12th and then again later; and in case anyone wants to check it out, go to theindietwificawards dot com. I'm pretty sure everyone knows to type it out in http format ;) Again, thank you to anyone who took the time to nominate my story! I'm up against some amazing stories, so I know I won't win anything, but I'm just giddy about being nominated! **

**I think I owe crazybabycakes (you lovely girl!) my music-loving heart, since she pulled me out from under my rock and introduced me to the Kings of Leon. (I know. Where the hell have I been?) My songs of the week are "Use Somebody" and "Closer" by Kings of Leon, "The Underdog" by Spoon, "Right Round" by Flo Rida (because it's just funny), "Monday" by Ludovico Einaudi, and "Waiting for the World to Fall" by Jars of Clay.**

**Oh, just a thought-I know that 'Masen' is not like 'mason', as in stonework; when Edward was talking about his last name, I figured it would be okay since they are both pronounced the same. Just wanted to clarify that I do know the difference ;) **

**Thanks for sticking with me everyone. Oh, and reviews are always appreciated! I'm so sorry if I don't get a chance to respond, but I'll try my best! Kisses, hugs, and all that jazz. ;)**


	12. Stinging Shades of Grey

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I now own a membership card to the "Quarter of a Century Club," as I turned 25 this past week. Oh, dear. ;) **

**So, uh, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Christina and this is my fan fiction story. I have been MIA for infinity plus one, and you all have my heartfelt apologies. Extra-long chapter, though…does that make up for it?**

**As always, truckloads of Thank-You Candy-grams to Emilie Fauve, who has been holding my hand and kicking my ass through this chapter when I needed it. It was her birthday, too, (same day as mine actually!) so Happy Birthday, Em!**

**Anyway, on to Bella and Edward, or as he's been called Napward, Broodward, or as CareBehrsGem so lovingly puts it, WTFward. :)**

-:-

_Seventeen_._ Eighteen. Nineteen._

After counting each thunder clap, I was waiting not only for a brief flash of lightning to illuminate my bedroom, but also listening for sounds of life from the other side of the wall. So far, I hadn't heard even so much as a creak.

_Twenty. _

And still nothing from next door. It was possible that never came back upstairs. Or maybe he had and I just didn't hear. Maybe he was simply down in the lobby. I paused again to listen through the echoing reverberation of thunder.

_Maybe you need to stop being such a psycho and stop hypothesizing on whether Edward is presently in his bed or not._

I turned my head toward the window, watching the rain spatter and trickle down the pane like hurried tears. I was awakened by the storm a little before six, and had since been sorting through my thoughts from the previous evening. Last night, I had been full of surprise and absolute glory at the complementary goodnight kiss in the hallway, and had an unusual amount of difficulty settling down. It was worse than the time I'd eaten three enormous pixie sticks on a dare.

Yet somehow, sleep eventually won me over, because at three-thirteen, I awoke with a start by a too familiar bang from the neighboring headboard on the other side of the wall, followed by subdued moaning. Edward must have knocked an alarm clock radio off his night table at some point - a device which I hadn't noticed during my little visit to his room - because there was a short clatter and Mama Cass Elliott faintly sang "Make Your Own Kind of Music" for a few moments before being abruptly silenced by what sounded like a stomp. I'd heard Edward exit his room soon after. I contemplated going after him, but something in my subconscious told me to stay put. I was fairly sure that I didn't hear him return to his room before I had drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

And now here I was, picking right back up where I left off, with Edward surrounding my every thought. My mind was assiduously wracked with questions about his nightmare-riddled, beleaguered being. I knew it really wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't help wondering what on earth could be plaguing him so badly. It was disquieting, and honestly, I was becoming concerned about him to an unusual degree, given the short amount of time in which I had known him. We weren't exactly strangers anymore, but we weren't lifelong friends, either. I shouldn't have been so worked up over him, but I was. It was getting exhausting.

_You need to get up. Pick out an outfit. Brush your teeth. Take a shower and pray not to get struck by lightning. _Although, if I was feeling reckless, I figured I could put that handheld shower head to good use.

Begrudgingly, I got out of bed and decided to do all of those things. In the end, I opted not to use the detachable shower head to my _advantage_, figuring I would save that activity for a day when there wasn't an air strike of electricity outside. With my luck, I _would_ get struck, die, and my story would end up in the Darwin Awards entitled 'The Showering Shock-limax'.

After I was clean and refreshed, I put on some clothes that were appropriate for stormy weather - a sweatshirt and jeans - and decided to have a very early breakfast, seeing as it was only a quarter to seven. I had to force myself not to knock on Edward's door as I exited my room, knowing that if he had returned to his bedroom, he probably would have passed out in minutes with the intent of sleeping the day away. There was no way he could function with such an erratic sleeping pattern for so long.

I walked downstairs to an empty lobby, which was a tad unsettling. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest to be alone, but that was before I'd seen Lauren's homicidal eyeballs nearly pop out of her head. My imagination started to run away with me, envisioning Lauren as Norman Bates, hunting me around the lodge with a knife, or an axe, as we were in the middle of the woods. And if she managed to chase me outside, I was sure to be knocked out by Jessica Stanley and then fed to a wood chipper. Creepy, slutty, psycho chicks.

"Morning, Ms. Bella."

At the sound of the voice behind me, I whirled around and nearly bolted for the door. Mr. Miller was sitting in front of the flickering fireplace with a chessboard and a cup of coffee, looking slightly amused at my reaction.

"Mr. Miller," I breathed, sighing in relief. "I-I didn't see you."

"Most don't," he said with a smile. "My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you, young lady."

"Oh, it's okay," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "I have a wild imagination. Too caught up in my thoughts to pay attention to what's going on around me."

"I've been guilty of that myself," said Mr. Miller, sipping his coffee. "What brings you downstairs at this hour?"

"The storm," I said, as the sound of thunder dauntingly grumbled from outside. "You too?"

"Oh, no," he said as he set his cup down and started to set up his chessboard. "I found that the more I age, the earlier I rise. I usually start my mornings at five."

"Oh, I see," I said, giving him a small smile, thinking that anyone who woke up at five AM every day deserved an award. "By any chance, you didn't see anyone else down here this morning, did you?"

_As in a green-eyed guy with a body to die for? Two borderline-deranged girls with manic eyes, chanting 'Redrum! Redrum!'?_

I thought I sounded casual, but Mr. Miller raised his eyebrows in a telling manner. "You mean Edward?"

My face grew warm. Edward had been right; I guess I should have known by the stares at dinner last night that people had noticed us. _Busted, Swan. _I wasn't very good at lying, so I shrugged and sat down in one of the armchairs. "Yes," I admitted, curling myself to one side of the chair.

"I haven't seen him," he said, pulling chess pieces out of a small satchel and lining them up. "Though, I have noticed that he starts his mornings fairly early. Normally, I see him drive by when I'm coming back from my morning walks. I'd be on my way out right now, in fact, but this rain's got me stuck inside."

I glanced toward the window with a small frown. I guess I wasn't the only one getting irritated with the rain. "Do you take the trail in the woods?" I asked, remembering one of the pamphlets Doris had given me that advertised scenic routes throughout the woods around the lodge. Scenic routes, indeed. Trees and sticks and bushes was probably more like it.

"Oh, no," said Mr. Miller with a laugh. "No, missy, I stay out of the woods at all costs."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh," I said, playing with the drawstring on my hoodie. "Why's that?"

"Let's just say that I prefer to stay on the sides of the streets," he said, twisting a pawn between his thumb and forefinger. He set the piece down and pointed toward the door. "Those woods… they sort of have a pull on people. As secretive and tempting as they are from the outside, there are things inside that lay quiet, just waiting for someone to come inside and be exposed."

"Like … bears?" I asked quietly.

He let out a throaty chuckle. "Yes, missy. I suppose they are something to look out for. After all, not all woods are as calm as _Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening _categorizes them to be."

"You like Robert Frost?" I asked, smiling at the familiar title.

"I was a student of his back at Amherst," he said, as if it were something as casual as buying milk. "Man had quite a knack for the mysteries of nature."

I felt my eyelids nearly disappear back into my head as my eyes widened. "You - he _taught_ you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Miller said. "I wish I could say that English was my prominent interest back then, but I was more inclined to study mathematics, physics - you know, engineering and such. But I'll give it to him - he managed to teach my poetry-ignorant behind a thing or two."

"Like what?" I asked eagerly, completely enthralled that he had studied under my favorite poet.

Mr. Miller aligned a knight next to a rook, appearing deep in thought as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Well, take that poem for example. Some think of the symbolism as the run of a long life full of obligations. Some think he was just pondering about another run-in with nature. But I always belonged to the group that considered it a warning."

"A warning?" I repeated.

"Like I said, Ms. Bella, the woods have a pull on people," he said. "They're wild, dark - unpredictable. They're lovely, yes, but they're dark and deep for a reason. They're unknown. I mentioned it to Professor Frost himself back then... he neither confirmed nor denied my theory. He only winked at me."

A loud clap of thunder made me twitch and I twisted in my seat to look out the window, watching a flash of lightning illuminate the trees outside.

"'Course, when you get to be my age, darlin', you'll go through life hearing all sorts 'a things," Mr. Miller said, drawing my attention back to him. He gave me a halfhearted smile. "Can't be sure what's true and what's poppycock. Don't let an old man spoil your plans."

I nodded, thinking that I would have to go finish reading the book of Frost's poems to get better insight. Before I could answer, Doris walked out from the far hallway and gave us a huge smile.

"Good morning, John! Isabella!" Doris exclaimed, _way_ too awake for the current hour. "My, aren't you two up early this morning! Of course, who could sleep with all of this racket going on? Have you both been waiting long? I put out the coffee pots, but I haven't gotten around to the pastries and bagels yet. Oh, I have so much to do…"

I grinned widely at Doris's scatterbrained speech, which reminded me of Renée. "Don't worry, Doris, I'll help you," I said, standing up.

"Oh, would you, dear?" she said, sounding relieved. "Heavens, I could barely bring myself to get out of bed this morning and now I'm moving at a snail's pace!"

"Sure," I agreed, turning to Mr. Miller and giving him a smile. "It was nice talking to you."

"You, too, missy," he said, holding his cup of coffee up in a "cheers" sort of gesture, then pointed to his chessboard. "Maybe I could interest you in a game sometime?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said, thinking that I'd probably last two minutes before he checkmated me. "I'll see you later. Hope you get to take your walk."

"Ah, me too," he said with a wave.

I helped Doris place numerous items around the buffet, and filled the juice and milk pitchers, as well. People eventually started coming down from the stairs, greeting everyone with _Good morning's _and exchanges of, _Can you believe this storm?_ Even so, the café was practically vacant; it was still early, only seven-fifteen, and now that the weekend was over, some of the guests had departed. It seemed that only a few new faces arrived to mesh with the other regulars. It was quiet, but still bright and cheery inside the lodge, though the rain outside was a cloudy, foggy rival; I hoped that its gloominess wouldn't seep its way inside somehow.

I helped myself to a mug of tea and a bowl of cereal from the buffet and sat at a table near the front of the café, by the window. After staring out into the downpour for an indiscernible amount of time, my eyes blandly wandered to the front of the lobby, hoping to find something more interesting than a live take on the Weather Channel. Nothing. I sighed and sipped my tea as my thoughts circled Robert Frost, the storm outside, and the woods that I had yet to explore. There were so many mysteries, just as Doris had said. I was aching to figure just one of them out, starting with Edward. Then, as if it had been scripted, I caught a glimpse of blue jeans descending down the stairs.

_There's no way._

Edward _had_ been in his room, after all. But how on earth could he possibly be awake already? I had certainly counted on him sleeping way into the afternoon, but there he stood…at least, it resembled a depressing version of him. He looked _awful_. His eyes scanned the café before he noticed me, and I raised my hand in a halfhearted wave, still taken aback by his unexpected appearance. Edward walked over and slowly slid into the chair opposite me, looking as though _he'd _been the one recovering from a concussion. I could smell traces of soap and his hair was damp, so he had obviously showered. A shower was usually a good refresher, but he was still unusually pale and his eyes were weary and carried dark bags beneath them.

"Good morning," he mumbled quietly, not meeting my eyes.

_Is it?_

I was trying not to stare, but I couldn't help giving him a look of concern. "Morning," I replied. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, brushing his wet hair out of his face and then proceeding to stare out the rain-spotted window.

_Ohhh-kay. _

"So, feeling selfish this morning, are you?" I asked, attempting to joke with him, but the only response I received was a pitiful glance of acknowledgment from his exhausted eyes. A server who I hadn't met made her way over to our table and poured him a cup of coffee without being asked.

She took one look at Edward and left the pot.

I debated on whether or not I should ask him what was wrong. I supposed that I already knew why he looked completely wrecked-he likely didn't fall back asleep after he'd awakened in the middle of the night. The longer I watched him, the more the evidence proved my thoughts correct. Between sips of coffee, he constantly rubbed his eyes and attempted to stifle frequent yawns. Even though it was evident that he was tired, he seemed oddly aloof. He didn't make any attempt to have a conversation or look at me, so we sat in silence for the next ten minutes, give or take a few. When he poured himself a third cup of coffee in that short amount of time, I was done waiting.

"Aren't you hungry?" I asked him, wondering how much coffee he could consume before going into a caffeine-induced fit.

He glanced up from his cup, his eyes as glazed as the blueberry pastries on the buffet table, and shook his head. It made me uncomfortable to see him act so withdrawn, especially after having such a seemingly pleasant evening the night before. My head was still tingling with a stimulating reminder in the exact spot where he had kissed me. I traced along my hairline with my fingers, remembering how entrancing it was to be so close to him, to have his hand in my hair and his lips on my skin…of course, the moment had also come with another one of his famous warnings: _I really wish you had the sense to stay away from me._

He made me sound as though I didn't have any sense. And if we were getting nitpicky, he wasn't exactly staying away from me, either. Rethinking it, I was suddenly irritated.

_Focus, Bella. Look at him. Does he seem in the mood to dive into his defense-mode? No. He looks like he might fall over. Give him a break._

"Is something wrong? Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

He shook his head again and clasped his mug of coffee, staring into the liquid as though he wanted to drown in it. I noticed his hands start to tremble slightly, so I reached out and pushed down on his wrist, forcing him to set the cup back on the table.

"Edward, you're shaking," I said, gently squeezing his arm. "Why don't you eat a piece of fruit or something?"

"I'm not hungry," he said in a bleak voice, raising his eyes to meet mine, and my stomach twisted at the look on his face. Whatever he was feeling had all but knocked the spirit right out of him.

"Are you sick?" I asked, anxious to know what was going on with him.

Edward took a short breath and shook his head again. "No. I'm fine."

And by "I'm fine" he meant he was tired of my questions. Well, _I_ was tired of searching for the key to his cryptic soul. To hell with giving him a break.

"Well, then _what is it_?" I blurted out, quietly enough so that I didn't draw attention to us, but firmly enough to somewhat snap him out of his lethargic stupor.

He glanced up at me, his eyes searching my face for a reason of why I had suddenly snapped at him - as if it wasn't already blatantly obvious. "What?" he asked.

My eyes widened. Was he kidding? "You really believe that I'm stupid enough to think that _this_-" I gestured between us with a few waves of my hand, "is you acting _fine_? Sorry, Edward, but I am not as dense as you think I am."

His mouth parted and he stared at me, his barely animate eyes flickering with misunderstanding. "I never said-"

"Oh, no? Maybe if I had the _sense_ to stay away, we'd both be better off, isn't that right?" I grumbled, cramming a spoonful of cereal in my mouth to stop myself from going any further. I avoided eye contact with him as the seconds ticked by, silently creating an awkward air around us. Even without looking, I still knew what he was doing: narrowing his eyes to random spots in the room, trying to figure out a way to elude my question entirely. Classic Edward behavior.

After a few more minutes, guilt started to pester me like a bothersome itch. I really didn't want him to feel bad-I was just frustrated by his lack of trust in me. I just wanted to see if I could help; if I couldn't, then fine, but I would never know unless he gave me something that answered a question and didn't raise more of them.

I played with my fingernails and finally looked at him. "I'm sorry... I just don't-"

"You apologize too much," he stated, irritable. Elusion successful. God damn it.

"Well, maybe if you didn't have such a miserable look on your face half the time, I wouldn't feel the need to keep apologizing for even speaking to you," I said, feeling my cheeks heat, surprised at his reaction. Being cross with him wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind for the morning, but my own lack of sleep and failure to get any answers from him was making me crabbier than Lauren's underwear.

He creased his eyebrows and returned his attention to his coffee, leaning his head on his hand with a soft sigh. We were silent again after that. I ate robotically - I could have been eating miniature squares of cardboard and I probably wouldn't have known the difference. When I finished my last bite of cereal, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and pushed my bowl to the side. Edward mirrored my movement with his coffee cup and folded his hands on the table. We stared at each other for a few moments and I bit the inside of my lip as I realized the hint of irritation in his gaze had disappeared; dejection had replaced it.

_Shit._

I sighed and reached out my hands to grasp his. They were extremely warm, probably due to him handling a hot coffee mug, and my stomach fluttered as I touched him. It was the first time that I didn't enjoy the feeling; I couldn't enjoy anything as long as that horrible guise remained on his beautiful face. "Edward…what is _wrong_?"

He stiffened slightly, appearing uncomfortable. After a few moments, his throat bobbed with a swallow and very slowly, he slid his hands out from under mine and placed them securely in his lap. My hands felt frozen to the table for a few moments before I finally pulled them back, plunging one into my hair and tucking my other around my waist, feeling somewhat rejected. It stung to feel him pull away from me.

I stared out the window, watching another flash of lightning brighten the parking lot-enough to provide me a glimpse of my truck. At that moment, it would have been nice to just get up, go outside, and speed away until things made sense. Apparently, I wasn't doing Edward any good and he didn't seem to want to talk or take my mediocre comfort. Plus, if I left now I could save myself any further embarrassment. Maybe I could hit an ATM and pay him back, finally.

"Bella?"

Edward's voice was soft and hoarse as he spoke my name. I slowly turned my head to glance at him, eyeing him wearily. _What's next? You're leaving? You're sorry? You're gay?_

He kneaded the spot between his eyebrows with his fingers before looking at me with an almost pleading expression. "Do you think we could…?"

I raised my eyebrows, waiting patiently for him to finish, but he just trailed off and took a sip of his coffee. "Could we what?" I asked, thinking that whatever he asked was certainly better than sitting here in awkward silence.

He cleared his throat. "Never mind."

That was it. I was going back to bed. I briefly wondered what would hurt me less: ripping out my hair or spontaneously combusting. I stared at him with my own tired expression, but before I could make a move to stand up, a light, singsong voice sounded from behind us.

"Mr. Masen!" I glanced over Edward's shoulder to see Doris flitting over to our table with her usual, emblematic smile set on her face. Even though her timing had been absurdly horrible so far, right now she couldn't have stepped in at a better time. Edward seemed to be thinking the exact opposite as he sighed, letting his shoulders slump even further.

"Damn it," he murmured under his breath, not looking at all in the mood to act jovial.

Doris stopped at our table and placed her hand on Edward's shoulder. "Hello, dear, this will only take a second," she said, giving Edward a quick glance. "How are you this morning?"

"Fine, thank you," Edward said, but even Doris frowned a bit at the sound of his voice. A childish urge to scream, '_No, he's not!' _rose in my throat, but instead, I swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Good morning again, Isabella!" Doris said warmly. I decided to give up on trying to convince her that I preferred 'Bella'. "Pardon me for interrupting, but I wanted to ask Mr. Masen a quick question."

For the first time all morning, I was genuinely cheerful as I smiled, suddenly feeling like giving Edward a little payback. "Hi, Doris," I said, folding my napkin and setting it to the side. "Feel free. I just finished, so if you'd like to have my seat…"

I stood up and Edward shot me a look that was both annoyed and confused. I inwardly cringed at his scowl, but I wasn't about to feel remorseful. Maybe he could stand to know a fraction of what it felt like to be constantly pushed away.

"Oh," said Doris, looking surprised by my impending departure. Her eyes flitted to Edward, taking in his somnolent form. "Are you sure? There's no need for you to leave, dear…"

"Yup," I said, stepping out of her way. "I was just going to talk to Mr. Miller, anyway. You know…branch out my _company_." I gave Edward a short, pointed look. "Have a good morning, you two."

And then I walked away before Edward's eyes could somehow perform their freaky hypnosis on me and guilt me into staying, leaving him and Doris staring after me. I made my way over to the fireplace where, thankfully, Mr. Miller's was still sitting.

I paused for a moment as he looked up quizzically. "Can I take you up on your offer?" I asked humbly.

He smiled and gestured to a chair beside him. "Have a seat."

I spent the next two hours hearing stories about his four children and grandchildren and getting my ass kicked at chess. He didn't speak of the woods again.

When the rain finally let up, Mr. Miller jumped at the chance to go for his morning walk. He politely asked me if I'd like to join him, but I declined genially, figuring that he enjoyed that time by himself. I sat for a few more minutes in the soft armchair, the fuzzy fabric making me want to curl up and take a nap. I yawned and glanced at the grandfather clock. Ten-ten. If I was going to make it through the rest of the day, a nap was probably a good idea.

I felt a twinge of guilty regret, thinking that I had probably just destroyed any progress Edward and I would make that day. But what else could I have done? Tied him down and forced him to talk to me? I supposed he might understand my point... then again, he could be taking the very opportunity to finally stay away from me for once.

As I stood, I subconsciously glanced around to see if Edward was still downstairs. He wasn't in the café-not that I had expected him to be. Maybe he'd gone somewhere for Doris-picking up groceries or an order for the lodge. Maybe he went to a bar; he did look as though he was in need of numbing his silent pain, after all. But then I saw it through the watery-streaked window: his Volvo, parked idly, enduring the persistent pounding of the rain. Unless he was hiding in the Entertainment or Dining Hall, I figured he must be in his room.

I climbed the stairs slowly and timidly, wondering if he would ever think to sit outside of my door and wait for me, ready to explain everything. His earlier words kept replaying in my head: '_Do you think-we could…?' Take a drive and let me explain, Bella? Fall madly in love? Go somewhere more private so you can "help" me sleep?_

Our hallway was empty and quiet. No such luck.

When I entered my room, I closed my curtains and climbed into bed, only stopping to remove my shoes. I buried myself under the comforter and hugged one of the fluffy pillows, hoping to drift off before another storm could start and keep me awake. I bit my thumbnail in nervous apprehension, finding myself once again wondering if Edward was on the other side of the wall. I heard nothing but silence, again; maybe he had tried going back to sleep. I hoped with all my heart that he was successful.

-:-

I hadn't even remembered drifting off, but I woke hours later to my cell phone ringing like an annoyed hyena. I untangled myself from the comforter and reached for it, nearly toppling out of bed as I grabbed it. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" I said, my heart picking up as I considered the possibility that Edward might have gotten my number from Doris.

"Bella? Hi, it's Angela."

"Hey," I said enthusiastically, even though hearing her voice was bittersweet. I'd been hoping to hear Edward's, but I supposed I shouldn't hold my breath for that anytime soon. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she said cheerfully. "I hope you don't mind that I got your number from Doris. I just left work…I pulled a double last night."

_Didn't we all?_

"God, I'll bet you're tired," I said, wondering if _anyone_ I knew here ever got a good night's sleep. "Are you heading home?"

"Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out or something," she said cordially. "I slept in an on-call room from seven this morning until twenty minutes ago, and now it's after one and I'm hungry and ready to have a social life."

I laughed. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and crash?"

"No, I'm too anxious," she said. "I'm supposed to meet Ben later tonight and I'd like your company if you're free…that is, unless you have plans with _Edward_." She spoke his name with a teasing tone, and I felt my stomach churn uncomfortably.

"No, I definitely do not," I said after sighing lightly. "And I want to hear all about this little date you're going on. Where do you want to meet?"

"Maybe the diner out on Forks Road?" she suggested. "It's not far from the lodge at all. Just turn right out of the drive and make a left at the first stoplight. It's right past the gas station."

"Sure," I said, bouncing off my bed and taking a look at myself in the mirror. Thankfully, I wasn't too scary-looking to go out in public. "Like ten minutes, maybe?"

"That's perfect," she said. "Thanks, I owe you."

"Whatever," I said, thinking of all that she had done for me already. "I'm just excited that I get to tease _you,_ for once."

She laughed and we hung up soon after. I grabbed my jacket and purse, not bothering with any makeup this time, and locked my door behind me as I stepped into the hall. I walked by Edward's door carefully and then turned around and stared at it. I narrowed my eyes, wanting desperately to knock and check to make sure he was all right.

_Don't you dare. Keep your cool and don't do it. Show him that he's going to have to chase _you_ this time._

I huffed and rounded on my toes, proceeding to descend the stairs. I waved to Doris on my way out and pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt as I walked outside into a misty drizzle. My truck sat waiting for me like a forgotten, lost toy and I smiled slightly as I reached the door.

"Sorry, baby, it's been a boggling couple of days," I said, opening the creaky door and hoisting myself inside. It was nice to be somewhere familiar. I checked my rearview mirror very vigilantly and backed out of the space. As I drove past Edward's Volvo, I couldn't help but feel like I was leaving him like a helpless puppy out in the rain, so to speak, and my heart felt as though it was sliding into my stomach. As bothered by his silence as I was, my intention hadn't been to hurt him…just to knock some sense into him. I hoped I had made the right decision in choosing to leave him alone.

-:-

_Isabella Swan, you are an idiot._

I chanted that thought over and over as I slowly trudged up to the lodge's door, not even caring that rain was pouring onto me in pelting sheets. From the time that I had started driving back, the sky had apparently decided to join forces with Poseidon, because I had driven back in a torrential downpour. This town and its damned rain. In Jacksonville, it stormed a lot, but it was usually only for ten minutes and then the sun came back out like it had just gotten back from a coffee break.

Coffee. That's what I needed right now.

As planned, Angela and I had met for lunch. After exchanging stories about the new men in our lives (well, _back_ in _her_ life for her), I accompanied Angela to her apartment to "help" her choose an outfit for her date with Ben. Honestly, I had absolutely no idea how to pick out clothes for anyone-I could barely dress myself. I played with Angela's cat while she took a shower and later we both left for a small bar on the outskirts of Forks, as if you could actually get any more "outskirt" in this town.

It was happy hour, so we'd both decided to take advantage and have a drink. Just one. And that didn't happen.

After three glasses of Sangria and a lemon drop shot, each, we were reduced to a giggling mess. Thank God Angela was meeting Ben at nine o'clock, for we might not have been able to sober up any earlier.

Ben arrived a few minutes before nine, and at their request, I hung around for a little while longer. Also, I distinctly remembered giving my phone number to some guy named Brandon during the last half hour of my buzz. He got a little too touchy-feely after that, trying to grab my ass and then offering the explanation that he was just "checking out the stitching on my jeans". He smelled oddly like sour mustard and stale beer when he'd leaned in close to me-and, not surprisingly, it triggered a too-close-to-home memory. I made an excuse about having to be up early and said goodbye to Angela and Ben, purposely nudging him into her as I "pretended" to trip on my way out.

As I got into my truck, I realized that I wasn't quite able to drive yet, so I leaned back in my seat and listened to the distant bass and music coming from the inside of the bar. Soon after, I had fallen asleep and eventually woke to the sounds of a slight pattering sound on the roof of my truck, which inevitably increased to a rampant rush of water. I waited patiently for the heavy shower to die down, but it didn't show any sign of stopping anytime soon. I finally started the engine and drove back to the lodge, peering through the black sheets of water like a half-blind old grandmother, only to arrive back in the parking lot shortly after midnight.

I opened the front door to the lodge, the little bell greeting me with an ironic, happy jingle. I'd had fun with Angela, but what on _earth_ had I been thinking giving out my phone number to some random guy?

_Stupid, impetuous, Sangria-saturated flirt. You're sad and worried about a guy who won't let you in, so the solution is putting yourself out there to a drunk moron? Awesome._

The lobby was empty and dark-only one recess light was lit over the café. I was glad - undoubtedly, I looked like a drowned rat and Doris probably would have tried to fetch me a blanket and a hot water bottle, mirroring a scene out of _Sense and Sensibility_. I shook the water out of my jacket and started making the climb up Mount St. Stairwell.

I was out of breath as I got to the top of the stairs and tried to walk soundlessly down the hallway to my room, my eyes lingering for a few moments on Edward's door. I couldn't hear anything; it wasn't as if our rooms had televisions, but I was curious to know if he was even here. I'd forgotten to see if his car was still parked out front...

_Stalker! Go to your room!_

I quickly unlocked my door and scurried into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. "God, Bella," I scolded myself aloud.

If it hadn't been so late, I might have tried knocking on his door to explain why I'd behaved the way I had during breakfast - at least to make sure that he hadn't left for good. But maybe that's what he was trying to tell me earlier… _'Do you think maybe we could wrap up this awkward silence? Because I'm leaving.'_

The thought made me feel sick.

I peeled off my wet clothes, hanging them over the desk chair to dry, and changed into a tank top and flannel pants. My hair looked like a frizzy rat's nest. Damn humidity. I brushed through it with my fingers and used a towel to try to soak up all the rainwater. At least my hair smelled good now; the aroma of fresh rain and the lemon-scented towels made me feel somewhat better.

As I came out of the bathroom, a low buzzing sound came from the opposite wall. I noticed my cell phone spinning in a slow circle, vibrating against the surface of my night table. I hadn't even realized that I'd left it here all night. I walked over to the table and unplugged it from the charger.

_Eight missed calls?_

The first was from an unknown number that had come less than ten minutes ago. I narrowed my eyes toward the wall that was between me and Edward.

_Would he really have called? How did he get my-? Wait._

I dug in my discarded jeans pocket for the napkin Brandon had given me at the bar. The napkin was soaked and nearly falling apart, but I could still make out a number scrawled in black ink that was written across the bottom. Yup. A match. He'd called me already. _Ugh. _How clingy.

I scrolled down on my missed calls list to see that the other seven were from home.

_Seven? What the hell?_

I sighed and rolled my phone in my hand. There was no telling whether Renée had received my voicemail or not. But whatever constituted seven phone calls must have been important, though it was hardly necessary. I hoped there hadn't been an emergency. Maybe Charlie had proposed…God help us all if Renée was _pregnant_.

It was after three AM Eastern time, but their last phone call had been at eleven-forty-two Pacific time. They might still be awake, especially after calling me all night. Nervously bouncing on my toes, I dialed my home number, hoping that everything was okay and that whoever answered would be calm.

A click sounded, followed by a harsh, "_Isabella Marie Swan!"_

Apparently, I was in no such luck. My mouth dropped and I suddenly regressed back into a trembling, guilty eight year-old who had something to hide. "H-hi, Mom."

"Are you _all right_?" Her voice was frantic.

"Yeah," I answered, looking around my room in paranoia, as if she could see me somehow.

"Oh, well, _that's_ good to know!" Renée snapped. "Since when does getting _hit by a car _qualify as something not to tell your parents about?"

"How did you know about that?" I asked in surprise.

"Do you think your father's precinct _wouldn't_ call him about something like that?" she practically screamed into the phone.

_Charlie's precinct? _How did the Forks Police know about my accident? Damn little mountain town and their fast-spreading gossip!

"Honestly!" Renée continued in her mom-overload voice. "They said you were harassed by a group of men and fell into the street and got _hit_! How do you think I reacted when I heard that? Why didn't you call us?"

"I did call!" Conviniently, I omitted the fact that I had called with no news of my accident. "I left you a message on your cell yesterday."

Renée huffed. "My phone's _dead_, Bella-I need a new battery-you knew that! Even if you forgot-yes, Charlie, she's all right-even if you forgot, it shouldn't have stopped you from calling the house, or your father for that matter! Are you sure you're _okay_?"

"Mom, calm down-deep breaths," I said quickly, using my Zen-voice. "I only now saw that you called all _seven_ times. I went to the hospital the other night and got treated, came back to the lodge and slept through the whole day yesterday." Okay, that was technically untrue, but there was no need to rile her up any more than she already was. "I wasn't ignoring you or anything. And I'm _fine_."

"What did the doctor say?" she asked, and then I heard her pull the phone away from her face and say, "No, Charlie, the blue one's bigger. Don't use the black one-the zipper's broken."

"I just have a concussion, and it doesn't even hurt anymore," I said, my eyebrows creasing at her words, as I suddenly comprehended what she might have been referring to. "Mom…are you talking about your suitcases?"

"Well, did you honestly think we were going to sit at home and not come to you?" she answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I sat down on my bed with a huff. This was exactly the kind of thing that would possibly break my sanity. I'd come to Forks so my parents wouldn't have to continue to worry about me. "Mom-put Charlie on the phone. You're not coming up here."

"The hell we're not, Isabella Marie!"

"And stop using my middle name," I grumbled. "I'm fine, Mom. I swear."

I heard her sigh in exasperation. "You're going to give me a heart attack one day, Bella."

_Yes. Thanks, mom. I'm complete heart failure for everyone these days._

"Are you going to put Charlie on?" I asked impatiently. I loved Renée, but I needed Charlie's rationale at this point.

I heard a slight scuffling noise, followed by Renée's muffled, "Charlie, she wants to talk to you." A moment later, I heard Charlie's deep voice. "Bells?"

"Hey Dad," I mumbled reluctantly, though I was calmed by the sound of his voice. "Don't freak out, okay? You two don't have to come up here. I'm fine."

I proceeded to give Charlie the rundown of what happened, omitting the fact that flashbacks of Phil were the reason I'd blindly flung myself into the street. "Just an ambulance and a couple of CT scans," I reassured him. "That's it, really. I've been taking it easy, I promise."

"Still, honey, I don't see why you don't want us to come up and make sure you're okay," said Charlie. "I've been meaning to visit, anyway-"

"I've only been here a few days, though-that's hardly a break on my part. And, Dad, you know me, I can take care of myself," I said with a pleading voice. "I'm twenty-one-an adult. If I wanted to, I could move out of the country. And I'm in your _hometown-_you called Forks the safest place that existed in the entire Northwest."

"I know, Bells," Charlie said, sighing lightly into the receiver. "That was before you got knocked in front of a car by a group of-"

"Actually, I _fell_ into the street," I reminded him, "and that was in Port Angeles."

"We don't want you to be alone if you're hurt," said Charlie calmly.

I leaned against my pillows, stretching my free hand back and tracing my fingertips over the carved, wooden headboard. "I'm not alone, I'm at the lodge with _Doris. _Plus_, _I made friends with Angela Weber…do you remember her?"

After a slight hesitation, Charlie said, "Yeah. She's a good kid. Works over at the hospital. Still-"

"Tom's here, too," I cut in. "You know, the chef who makes that sweet potato pie that you go bat shit over?"

"Bella-"

"And Edward's here with me, too, and-"

"Who's Edward?" Charlie asked in a very familiar, firm, fatherly voice.

I blinked and closed my mouth quickly as I realized that once again, my mouth run faster than my mind. Oops. "Oh-this guy I met," I said carefully. "He's in the room next to me. He's been…helping me out, I guess."

"How old is he?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and then suddenly realized that I had absolutely no idea. "Uh," I said, nervously tapping my fingers against the headboard. "In his twenties, I think."

I heard Charlie take a short breath. "You don't know?"

"Well, no," I admitted. "I never came out and asked him directly. He doesn't look much older than me. He looks…" _He looks like a Greek god, actually_. I smiled as I pictured Charlie's face if I had actually said that.

"I think we should come up there," Charlie said firmly, as if he had already made up his mind. Because I'd met a _boy_. Typical Charlie.

"No," I whined, running my hand through my hair in frustration. "You don't understand, Char-Dad. That will make everything worse." I looked frantically around my room, as if something might pop out and give me an idea. "I-look, I'll go wake up Doris, okay? You can talk to her."

If anyone could talk up Edward like he was a saint, it was Doris, even if she was awakened after midnight to do so. Charlie started to protest, but I walked toward my door anyway and pulled it open. I was not expecting a charcoal athletic shirt, black sweatpants, and green eyes to be staring back at me.

"Edward," I said in soft surprise. He was standing right in front of the doorway, arm raised as if he was just about to knock. He looked a little better than I'd left him; he still seemed a little weary, but he wasn't as pale and looked as though he might have finally gotten back to sleep…that is, until I had started talking on the phone, probably.

_Shit. Thin walls._

"Is this a bad time?" he asked timidly, gripping a handful of his thick hair and twisting it between his fingers.

I watched his motions and swallowed, knowing that a flow of blood was creeping into my cheeks. _Jesus Christ_, he had nice arms. Why did looking at him have to render me completely speechless sometimes? But then Charlie's voice brought me back to reality.

"Hello? Bella! Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I said into the phone, still not taking my eyes off of Edward.

He glanced uneasily at the floor and took a step back. "I'm sorry," he apologized, looking somewhat insecure. "I'll talk to you later."

_What? Oh!_

"No!" I cried, louder than I meant to. "I mean, no it's not a bad time. It's fine, I-Dad?" I returned my attention to my cell phone for a moment. "Can I call you back or something? You're not really going to come-"

"Edward's in your room? At-after midnight?"

I stuttered incoherently over my words before breaking into a nervous laugh. "Not like _that_, Dad!" God, my face must have been the color of the Sangria I'd consumed earlier. "I just opened the door and he was…there. I think I woke him up when I called you."

I mouthed an apology to Edward, who was looking at me with a curious expression. Jesus, how humiliating.

"It's okay, you didn't," he said, almost whispering. "Sorry to interrupt. I can just talk to you in the morn-"

I reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a look that hopefully conveyed 'Don't you _dare_ go anywhere.' To make sure he didn't do just that, I pulled him inside my room and closed the door. Edward complied without protest, but he still gave me a puzzled look.

"Let me talk to him," said Charlie from the other end of the phone.

I froze. _Abso-fucking-lutely not! _"Wha-_no!"_ I said, cringing, thinking of the interrogation that Charlie would certainly concoct. "No, you're not-doing _that_."

"Just let me speak to him for a minute," Charlie pressed, his cop-voice coming out to play. _God_.

"Dad, _no_," I said firmly, giving Edward a nervous look. "Just-give me a second." I pressed my phone to my stomach, hoping to block anything audible from Charlie. I sighed heavily.

Edward stared back at me in concern. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, feeling like a super moron. "My parents just found out about what happened in Port Angeles," I explained. "They're freaking out and I'm trying to convince them that I'm okay and that they don't need to come here. If they showed up, I would just-it would defeat the purpose of me giving them space."

Edward nodded in understanding and sat on the edge of my bed.

"Now, my dad wants to talk to _you_ because he's-_ridiculous_," I said, rolling my eyes, "and I'm just-" I sighed. _God, he probably thinks you're nuts. Maybe you _should_ have let him go back to his room._

Edward shrugged minutely. "I'll talk to him. If it will make him feel better, then I'm okay with it."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," I said quickly. "I'm just going to say goodbye. Do you mind waiting a minute?"

"Bella, it's no big deal," he said, reaching his hand out. "I can understand his concern. It's all right."

I stared at his outstretched hand in confusion. Edward "Mind-locked" Masen was open to talking to _Charlie_, my Police Chief father, but he could barely get out a sentence to _me _that morning. At that moment, I half expected a pig to fly over my shoulder and say, "Hell was pretty cold today."

I slowly raised my cell phone to my ear again, thinking that if anything, Charlie would get the reassurance he needed that I was all right, and that Edward wasn't some guy I'd picked up off the street to stay with me. "Okay, here he is," I said hesitantly, feeling my stomach churn anxiously. "Be nice. You have one minute."

"That's fine," Charlie answered.

I took a deep breath and reluctantly handed Edward the phone. I sat next to him on the bed and nervously clutched the comforter between my fingers.

"Hello, Mr. Swan?" Edward said in his smooth voice. I closed my eyes, wincing, feeling the rest of my face heat up considerably-this was unbelievably embarrassing. "Yes, sir. Masen." Edward paused and looked at me. "Well, actually, it's like Bella said-I heard her from my room and I was checking to see if she was all right. It's late, after all, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

I stared at him with wide, apologetic eyes, unable to look elsewhere or even distract myself with folding clothes or tidying up. I was frozen to the spot.

"Twenty-four," said Edward, still answering Charlie's questions.

_Twenty-four. _Probably his age. My twenty-one sounded so childish compared to his _twenty-four_.

I tapped my foot nervously, thinking that approximately fifteen seconds had gone by. Forty-five to go. I could hear Charlie's muffled, nearly silent voice on the other line, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Her doctor asked if there was anyone who could stay with her for the next twenty-four hours after she left the hospital, just to make sure she was still responsive and didn't develop any dangerous symptoms or complications," Edward said, his hand habitually running through his hair. _Was he nervous? _"So, I stayed with her. Honestly, sir, I have her best interests at heart."

My heart sped at his words and I chewed anxiously on my thumbnail, wondering how he could speak so openly to Charlie without so much as a waver in his voice. Thirty more seconds.

"Yes, I was. Well, I was with her when it happened."

Edward started playing with the hem of his shirt, turning the fabric into a tight twist. He _was_ nervous. I reached out to take the phone, but Edward leaned away from me before I could grab it.

"Chicago, sir." Edward glanced at me again, then narrowed his eyes to the door. "Well…yes. I'm sorry?"

I straightened my back. _What?_

Edward's eyebrows creased and he stood up, still pressing my phone to his ear. "No, I do." Another pause. "Anthony."

_Who the hell is Anthony?_ I kept my gaze locked on Edward's face as he slowly walked to the bathroom door and back. Fifteen more seconds.

He listened for a few moments before saying, "Yes, that's right." Silence. "I…I worked for a law firm, sir." I watched him carefully as he paused to listen to Charlie and after a few seconds, I could have sworn I saw the luster of Edward's eyes diminish slightly. He glanced up at me, almost as if he needed help with an answer. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and spoke quietly, "Um…"

He was growing pale right before my eyes. Without hesitating, I leapt up from the bed and snatched the phone out of his hand. He didn't make a move to dodge me this time, either.

"Time's up, Charlie," I said with an accusatory tone, wondering what the hell he had said to make Edward look so uncomfortable. "Are you satisfied?"

I heard Charlie take a short breath. "I'll call you back, Bella," he said simply, and promptly hung up the phone before I could complain. I stared at the screen, watching the little words "Call Ended" blink repeatedly before going dark. Great. He was probably going to go check and see if Edward had a track record. Christ. I looked up at Edward, who had his back to the wall of the bathroom. He was staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, feeling ungodly mortified. "What did he-if he said anything inappropriate, I'm so sorry. I _knew_ I shouldn't have given you the phone…"

"It's fine, Bella, he was just looking out for you," Edward said quietly, finally lifting his head. "He didn't say anything uncalled for, I promise."

"Then…why did you…?" I began, confused. He didn't seem to be lying; I'd gotten pretty good at determining whether or not he was being honest. "Why do you look so upset?"

He shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly. "I've never really spoken to anyone's worried father," he said, giving me a small smile. "I guess I was nervous that I would say something unsuitable."

Okay, now he was lying. And he hadn't really even answered my question. Charlie must have gone all police-officer and told him not to touch my penguin panties or he would come and give Edward a new meaning of 'Happy Feet' by aiming his Glock .40 at Edward's toes.

I tossed my phone on the bed and sat back down, shaking my head meekly. "I'm so sorry," I continued.

Edward sighed. "Bella, why are _you_ apologizing?"

I snorted, raising my eyes to his without moving my head. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed if your father was background-checking someone you know just because he's overly fussy about who you talk to?"

I stared at the hardwood floor for a few moments, then looked back up at Edward. My lips parted in slight confusion and I turned my head in uncertainty, still keeping my eyes locked on his. "What?" The question escaped my lips before I could rationally process any thought.

Edward had only looked slightly pale a few moments ago. Now, he looked as though he'd just participated in a blood drive. Twice.

He opened his mouth, but seemed to have trouble speaking. He looked strange…panicked. "Did…your father…" He ran his hand over his face, seemingly distressed. "He's background checking me?"

_Oh, dear God. You've creeped him out. He thinks you and your family are madcap stalkers. Say goodbye to your dignity, you garrulous weirdo._

"I-uh, he-I'm sorry, it's not what it sounds like," I stammered, standing up and taking a step toward him.

_It's exactly what it sounds like, and he's not stupid!_

"I mean, he used to be the Chief of Police here-I told you that, didn't I? It's like a routine to him, and-I'm sorry, that sounds horrible. And it doesn't make it okay. I won't-"

Suddenly, he stepped away from the wall and brushed past me to the door. He glanced back at me for a moment, then barely whispered, "I'm sorry."

He disappeared into the hallway and shut the door, a loud click echoing his departure. I stared after him, my mouth half-open, too late to stop him with words. I didn't blame him, really. I might have fled the prying-shady-family scene, too, if I had been in his shoes.

Oddly feeling close to tears, I sat down right on the floor, not wanting to curl up on my bed or go take a warm, calm shower. I wanted to sit and do nothing. And as much as I wanted to feel nothing, I felt a triple-blended whirl of feelings: shame, confusion, and devastation.

_He's never going to speak to you again._

I hated myself for ever letting him speak to Charlie. I hated myself even _more_ for not calling my parents the second the accident had happened. I also hated myself for not just taking a goddamned self-defense class so _I_ could have been the one to beat up those drunken idiots and their fucking overalls-that would have prevented this whole mess.

My phone rang.

_Jesus._

I pushed myself up and grabbed my phone. Home. "Hello?" I mumbled dully into the receiver.

"_Bella_?" Charlie inquired.

_Ugh. That voice was _never_ good._

"What now?" I asked harshly, still painfully aware that Charlie was the one who had just caused a major upset.

"Do you have _any_ idea who that boy is and what he's done?"

"Well, I told you, I-" And then I stopped. _What he's _done_? _

"Hold on a second," I said, taking the phone away from my ear and putting it back against my chest, feeling my heart start to pound underneath my tank top in creeping suspicion. I narrowed my eyes to the door and then to the wall-the wall that separated me and Edward. I listened carefully and I heard a distinct thump.

It didn't make sense…or did it? Could he have done something wrong? Was he _running_ from something?

He never wanted to talk about why he left home; maybe he had good reason. Or maybe he didn't want me to know because if he told me, then he'd have to _kill_ me or something preposterous. But then, as I thought about it, it _did _make sense. Maybe he was in trouble. I finally put the phone back to my ear, hearing Charlie's muffled incoherent words.

"-ella? Are you there?" Charlie was almost yelling, sounding flustered.

"Yes, I'm right here," I said, feeling a little dizzy. "Charlie…what-"

"Is he still there?" Charlie demanded.

"No, he's in his room, you freaked him out!" I exclaimed, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "What exactly did you _say_ to him?"

"I only asked him some questions," said Charlie. "I wanted to see if he would tell the truth, and he did. He just omitted the fact that he-"

"_Stop_," I said firmly, suddenly find it difficult to breathe. "What are you trying to say, that he's _dangerous_?"

"I'm saying that you don't know who he is and I'm going to tell you," said Charlie, taking a deep breath, presumably preparing to finally give me insight on everything that I'd been guessing about from the first time I laid eyes upon Edward.

"No, you won't," I said in a trembling voice. "_He _is."

And with that, I hung up, stuffed my phone into my pocket, and went out my door. I combed my fingers through my dampened hair and sucked in a deep breath as I walked to Edward's door. Fear seemed to bubble in my throat-I had no idea what I was stepping into.

_He's not dangerous. He's the one who took you in his arms when you couldn't walk. He's the one who watched over you all night when you needed someone. He's the one who kissed your forehead right here in this hallway, touching you with the most gentle caresses. He's _not_ dangerous._

My thoughts fueled me enough to make the final few steps to his door and I reached up to knock, but then I noticed that his door was barely ajar. Had he left already? But then I heard a shuffle, a clank, and a low thump. He was still inside.

_Well, move, damn it!_

Without bothering to debate with myself, I pushed his door open to be welcomed with the same marvelous scene as the last time I'd seen his room. The fireplace was still unlit, though the faint odor of charred wood lingered in the air, but his lamps were on, casting a magnificent glow throughout the beautiful room. The one change, however, was Edward's presence. He whipped his head up at the movement of the door and stared at me as I stared right back.

"Your door was open," I uttered quickly, trying to appear poised as I realized the sound that I heard was him opening and closing the dresser drawers.

He had a handful of t-shirts in one hand and his other hand was holding his black canvas bag, which appeared to be half-stuffed with clothing. His actions froze for a few moments as he watched me from the corner of his room, his face flashing different emotions: trepidation, suspicion, perplexity, and vulnerability. He was the cornered animal, and I was the hunter.

After a few seconds, he pushed the handful of shirts into his bag and then tossed the entire thing on his bed. "Your father called you back," he stated plainly.

"Yes," I said, feeling my heart stutter in my chest as he gazed into my eyes.

He nodded slowly, running his hands through his hair. His expression was now mirroring a curious deliberation. "Did he tell you?" he asked softly.

"No," I answered quickly, stepping into his room without permission. "What…what are you doing?"

"Packing," he said, finally turning away from me to open another drawer.

My body moved before I could speak. I grabbed his arm and pulled, forcing him to face me. "But why? Because of me?"

He gazed at me in disbelief. "No," he said, almost laughing, reaching inside a drawer, not allowing himself to stop for anything. "Not because of you. Because of me."

"That doesn't make sense," I said, feeling the impending panic rise within me, remembering my fear of him suddenly taking off without an explanation. "Can you explain it to me? I just want to…"

I stopped speaking when he pulled a folded stack of boxer shorts out of the drawer.

_Dear God. The man folds his underwear._

Unexpectedly, I caught a glimpse of a green pair that was printed with little cartoon _leprechauns_. I suddenly couldn't remember what I was going to say.

"Bella, please, there's nothing I can say that would make this any easier," he said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

The leprechauns were holding pots of gold and little clovers, like an animation from a Lucky Charms box. Scattered between the pictures, there was a phrase.

'Me bum is magically delicious.'

_Oh. My. God._

He caught me staring with my wide eyes, then hastily shoved the boxers into his bag.

_Focus, you idiot!_

"Ed-Edward," I stammered, "just wait a minute! Look, I'm sorry about my dad. He had no right to pry into your privacy. I just-I just want to help you."

"Help me?" he repeated, scoffing. "Bella, you can't help me."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" I asked, watching helplessly as he finished packing his bag and zipped it shut. "Are you running from something-someone? Because if you are, I-I…"

He leaned down to the floor and then slid a second bag out from under his bed and placed it atop his comforter.

"I'll help you pack!" I blurted out. "Or do you want me to carry this down to your car? Are the police coming or something?"

Edward finally ceased his continuous movement and looked at me with a confused, almost cold expression. "No. I'm not running from the police."

My cell phone rang from inside my pocket and I quickly pulled it out. Home. I silenced it without another thought, then turned my attention back to Edward. "Well, then why do you have to leave now? At twelve-thirty in the morning?"

He sighed exasperatedly and returned to pulling things out of his dresser. "Because if I don't leave now, I'll-"

"What?" I cut in, my head pounding with pressure as I raked my fingers through my hair again. "You'll have to explain things? So, you'd rather duck out and have me hear it from someone else? Well, no! No, that's not going to happen. If you're not in trouble or some kind of fugitive, then what could possibly be so terrible to make you think that you can't talk to me about it?"

His fatigue was showing clearly, now, and I could see his hands shaking as he grasped one of the bedposts. He was thinking hard, his eyes practically boring holes into the floor. "I don't want to drag you down with me," he said in a small voice as he rubbed his forehead. "There's no reason for you to be so concerned."

_What? Was he _kidding_?_

"Oh, no?" I said, sliding his second bag away from him as he reached for it again. "I'd have to be heartless not to care about what's going on with you. You barely sleep, and when you do, you have nightmares that claw at your soul, and I know they do because of the _pain_ in your eyes. You're hurting, you're sad, you're-"

"I _know_ all this," said Edward brusquely, snatching his bag back from me. "My question is, _why_ are you concerned? Why are you so ready to help me run from phantom police and bandage up my weary soul? _Why_?"

"Because, you-you make me feel-" I was failing miserably at getting my point across. "You did something to me. You made me open up to you-"

"I didn't _make_ you do anything," he snapped, attempting to glare, but all that showed on his face was a transparent shade of angst.

"I mean you made something come alive in me," I said desperately, trying to block him from the dresser so he couldn't grab any more of his belongings. "I feel _good_ when I'm with you. And you don't understand, Edward, I haven't characterized anything as 'good' for two years."

"Yes, well, this _idea_ that you have that I am _good _to be around is all in your head," he said, furrowing his eyebrows in impatience.

"Don't tell me what's in my head," I replied, aggravated. "You tell me you're drawn to me, but that I should stay away from you. Then you tell me you're getting more and more attached to me, but then push me away. Now, you're going on to say that I'm _imagining_ it?"

This was a complete and utter mind-fuck. Maybe I should just step out of his way and let him go. It seemed to be what he wanted and would cause my frustration level to go down significantly, but the very thought of watching him leave made my heart grow heavy, as if sinking into a hole of thick, ungraspable blackness. He raised his eyes to meet mine and the sight of him gave me chills. His eyes had become almost visibly darker…dismal, even. I'd never seen someone look so haunted.

My cell phone rang again and I swiftly silenced it, not bothering to check who was calling. I already knew.

"I…I don't want to hear it from Charlie," I managed to say in a steady voice. "Even if you leave, he'll tell me sooner or later. I don't want my last memory of you to be like this-trying to run as if I'd have a different opinion of you just because I know the truth about you."

"You _would_," he replied, stalwartly gripping his bag's strap.

I sighed and walked closer until I was right in front of him. He looked over my head at first, but I reached up and took his face in my hands, praying that my palms weren't a sweaty mess. "Try me," I said softly, tracing my fingers over his cheekbones and over to his hair.

After a few moments, still not giving in and meeting my eyes, he swung his bag and tossed it to the floor, almost in anger. _Please, _I thought. _See me._

Very slowly, as if he was resisting a force that was keeping his eyes elsewhere, he lowered his head and gave in to my silent plea. He didn't look like himself. He had an insubordinate expression on his face, something that I presumed he had practiced for a long time. But I saw through it-he was afraid. But of what? Me? I stared back at him stubbornly, refusing to let him collapse into himself-allowing himself to think that I would feel anything negative about him.

"You keep fighting this…but you're going to shatter," I said softly, my voice shaking. "Please…talk to me."

It was slow, probably only triggered from his exhaustion, but his defiant stare faltered gradually and his shoulders wilted lamentingly. He closed his eyes and sighed, defeated, as he finally sank down onto his bed. My hands slid from his face and I debated for only a moment before sitting down next to him. I reached over and put my hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere," I said, not sure who I meant it for more-me or him.

He didn't, or couldn't, bring himself to meet my gaze this time. With a breathy sigh, he mumbled, "Even if you were told that I _killed_ someone?"

And…there…it…was. My lips parted and I slowly narrowed my eyes.

_He. Killed. Someone._

Silent seconds ticked by as I processed his words…and then I waited. I waited for some kind of horrible feeling to spread through my stomach or to start feeling panic of some sort to solidify me. I waited for the physical dizziness to overwhelm me, where I would either faint or fall to the ground in shock. But none of it came.

"Who?" I asked.

He slowly lifted his head and stared at me in bewilderment. "Does it _matter_?"

I narrowed my eyes, thinking about my answer carefully. "Yes," I answered. "What happened?"

He was inhaling almost rhythmically, as if he was afraid of forgetting how to breathe properly. "I-I was at my parents' house…house-sitting. I woke up in the middle of the night to sounds coming from downstairs. Glass breaking, footsteps…and I'd had a rough weekend, so I wasn't thinking straight. I never even thought to call the police."

He started to fidget nervously with his hands, so I grasped one of them with my own. He calmed a bit and continued. "I just grabbed my father's gun and I waited. I didn't know who it was or what their intention was…and then, they came upstairs…and I shot." He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor again. "It was a thirteen year old kid-my neighbor, Justin."

The boy who disturbed his dreams. I felt sick as I watched Edward's face twist in silent agony.

"I called for an ambulance, but he was dead before the call could even go through," he said, twisting his free hand into his t-shirt by his abdomen, audibly breathing heavier. "I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't mean to kill anybody. All I knew was that someone broke into my house and I panicked. It was an _accident_." The last word he spoke in a whisper.

He squeezed my hand with his trembling fingers, and I slid my other hand around his back and rested it on his warm shoulder. Carefully, hoping that I wasn't being too forward, I placed my head against his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin against my cheek.

"I'm sorry, Edward." What else was there to say, after all?

He lowered his head slowly and for a few moments, he rested his head on top of mine, sliding his other hand through my hair. If he was going to cry, I would not be able to hold back from blubbering like a little girl. But he didn't.

Instead, he suddenly stood up, and to my surprise, reached for his discarded bag on the floor and set it back on his bed. For a second, I thought he was going to start unpacking, but I was shocked when he turned and continued to pull the rest of his clothes out of the dresser and stuff everything into the bag in front of him. I watched silently, still stunned, wondering why he was still planning on leaving-he'd told me his secret; there was nothing else to say, right? Eventually, I rose from my spot and curled my hands around one of the bedposts.

"You're still leaving?" I asked softly, gazing at him in longing. I didn't want him to go. I wasn't sure why, but my chest started aching in an unfamiliar way-I couldn't put my finger on the feeling.

He exhaled loudly and zipped his bag, now completely packed and ready to go. "Yes. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've put you through. You don't deserve that anymore."

"You're not trouble," I said in a voice that was louder than necessary. "I don't understand why-"

I stopped speaking as he lifted his bags up and tossed them to the floor in front of the fireplace. Suddenly appearing angry, he penetrated me with an intense gaze, locking me to him; I couldn't have looked away even if someone had tried to physically _pull_ me.

"Have you not listened to a word I've said?" he said, emotion clogging his throat. "I am the pure _definition_ of destruction. I'm the kind of person that people warn their kids about-the kind that _murders_."

I gaped at him, feeling my heart pound in vulnerable agony at the sight of him so catastrophically upset. "Edward, how could you place yourself in such a category?" I asked, stepping toward him as he took an equal set of steps away from me. "You-you can't possibly think of yourself as-you said it was an _accident_."

"I ruined someone's family," he mumbled, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I'm no better than-"

"I wrecked _my_ family," I interrupted. "But when I say it, you'll sit and tell me that it wasn't my fault, but you're going to tell me that it doesn't work the same way for you?"

"What I did is _different_, Bella," he said, swallowing quickly. His hands were still shaking.

I growled in impatience as my cell phone rang for the third time and I ripped it out of my pocket and did something that I hated to do and almost never did, except in emergencies. I sent a _text-message _to Charlie's cell number.

'_I'll call when I'm ready. Just let me sort through some things, please. And calm down, the both of you! I'm FINE.'_

I knew Charlie would have no clue how to answer me and I was pretty sure that Renée wasn't familiar with using Charlie's bulky, old-school style phone. That would keep them busy for a few minutes.

I turned back to Edward, who was now moving from the window to the bed in an agitated pace. He was combing though his hair with his hands, seeming more disconcerted than when I'd first entered. I stepped closer to him, timidly stuffing my cell phone back in my pocket.

"Sorry," I mumbled, unable to help feeling contrite. Charlie probably had Renée in a frenzy, thinking that I was going to be axed to pieces by some serial killer. "Charlie's just…overprotective. He always has-"

"He should be," Edward interjected. "I don't blame him. You should probably go to bed, Bella. It will be easier if we just say goodnight and be done with this."

_Be done with this?_ The ache in my chest deepened and I involuntarily rubbed at the spot. "Where are you going to go? Home?" My voice sounded raw and feeble-it was embarrassing.

He shook his head. "Definitely not. No one wants me there."

I raised my eyebrows at his words, and even he looked surprised that he had spoken such a thing. He looked away and took a shaky breath before sitting in the armchair that was against the wall. He rubbed his eyes and his head, looking so exhausted that I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get back up.

"So, that's why you left?" I asked, fighting the urge to reach out and hug him. "It was too hard to stay?"

He continued to knead his forehead with his hand, hiding his expression from me. Even though his eyes were covered, I could imagine the misery that was swimming in them. A question gnawed at me and I bit my lip, debating on whether or not I should even cross into that kind of territory…but the curiosity was slowly killing me.

"Was it your parents?" I tried again, speaking quietly. "Did they not support you?"

His reaction was the last thing I expected. He gave me a laconic glance before breaking out into a humorless laugh that was laced with disparagement. He shook his head, still chuckling darkly, as if I had told him a disgusting joke. "No," he replied in a daunting whisper.

I imagined the arguments, the screaming, and the _tears_ that would come from such a situation. I couldn't fathom the guilt that was plaguing him. I didn't want to imagine Charlie's reaction if I had done such a thing…or Renée's, for that matter-but I allowed myself to envision it for a moment. And only needing that small second to think, I _knew_ that no matter what I had done-accident or not-I would have them standing behind me as the most powerful, loving kind of back-up. They would be heartbroken, maybe…but they would never leave me to fend for myself.

I felt a wave a remorse wash over me as I contemplated my previous selfish thoughts of feeling _alone _just because I was without some cookie-cutter relationship. I had my friends back home and I had my family. I even had Angela, now, who I was sure would come to be a great friend as time passed. But staring at Edward, I realized that his eyes had bled so many emotions in the short time that we'd known one another; I thought I'd distinguished them all…but the one sentiment I'd missed was a forsaken lonesomeness. _He_ was the one who had been abandoned.

He had put his head back into his hands and it was sorriest sight I'd seen him in. My reserve broke and I stepped up to him and pulled his hands away from his face, trying to raise his chin so that I could see him. He gave me a quick glance before he resisted and looked back down at the floor. I ran my fingers over his cheekbones and brushed his hair from his forehead, trying to think of a way to comfort him. Before I could do anything else, he raised his arms and took my wrists in his shaking hands, giving me a glimmer of hope…but then he pushed me away.

"Stop," he said in a thick voice, attempting to sound harsh. _Like I'd buy that_.

"Edward, look at me," I said, trying to persuade him to look up. He kept his hands closed around my wrist in a loose grip-a feeble attempt to keep me at a distance, yet not letting me go, either.

"You need to leave," he rasped suddenly, nearly choking on his words. "Go, please."

There he went…sinking back into despair while I witnessed. The green in his eyes was so bright-maybe with unshed tears or anger-I didn't know which. How could he possibly expect me to leave him alone after all that he had said? I reached out and traced my fingers around his jaw line. "Edward-"

"Get _out_, Bella! _Now_!" he yelled acidly, startling me enough to yank my hand back with a gasp. "How can you still stand here after what I just told you? Because you like my _face_? My _voice_? _What_?"

His trenchant tone was enough to nearly knock the breath out of me. I felt my face heat rapidly, blood coursing through my cheeks with a brazen flow. He looked at me for a moment before shaking his head with a foul expression; I wanted to tear my eyes away from him, but I couldn't.

_He doesn't mean it. He wouldn't…he just-_

"You're no better than the rest of them," he muttered brokenly, staring back at the floor. "So, _get out_."

I couldn't even think straight after hearing that. I struggled to get my breath and felt shameful tears sting my eyes like bitter irritants as I turned and swiftly made for his door, nearly clawing the doorknob off just to get myself out of his sight. As I retreated to the hallway, I closed his door behind me and took a short breath before speeding to my room. I refrained from slamming my door and went straight to the bathroom to grab some tissues to wipe my face with, as the tears had already streamed down my cheeks and started to drip down my neck. My heart was pounding in an aching rhythm that beat shame, shock, and petulance into me with each pulse. I had mentally prepared myself for this with each guy I'd dated…but _this _kind of grief-from someone who I wasn't even romantically involved with-was a mortifying surprise.

_I was 'no better than the rest of them?' Like Jessica? Like Lauren? Like any other female with a pulse who had thrown themselves at him? _That hurt the worst. I didn't understand…less than twenty-four hours ago, he'd told me that I was nothing like anyone he'd ever met, like I was special. What had I done differently between then and now?

_You let yourself get sucked into his penetrating, star-like eyes, you idiot! And _yes_, you were attracted to him; of _course_ he could see right through you!_

"Stupid," I muttered to myself, wiping my eyes fiercely, trying to prevent the flow of any new tears that might form. I wasn't meant for this…I should have known better. But then suddenly-faster than the shock had come on-all the self-conscious sorrow was overshadowed by an unabashed exasperation.

_No! Here you go_ again_, Bella, feeling sorry for yourself and thinking that everything is _your_ fault! _

As I firmly bit the inside of my lip, I grew more and more angry as I thought about it. I'd just sat and listened to him confess one of his darkest secrets and remained nothing but sympathetic and nonjudgmental. I was trying to _understand_ him, not sitting there staring at him for my pleasure. I couldn't deny that he was, indeed, eye-catching and awfully handsome, but during our entire conversation, I was seeing _inside_ him. I hadn't had any thoughts of lust or infatuation or even a warm feeling of desire-just pure concern and the yearning to erase the pain he was in by listening and consoling. He had _no _right to say that to me-not at a moment like _that_.

I hastily threw the tissues in the bathroom wastebasket and stalked into my bedroom. I grabbed my hoodie and pulled it on with rough movements, feeling livid, and pulled open my door.

_To hell with decency_. I was pissed. And I promptly shoved the door shut with a fierce slam, not even caring if he heard me. He could leave if he wanted to, but I'd be damned if I was going to be there to watch. _I_ was getting out first.

As I reached the stairs, I gave his door one last look before sprinting down the steps at a speed that was ridiculously dangerous for someone like me. I gripped the banister in a constricted grasp, trying to prevent myself from launching forward and tumbling down the stairs; though, if it would have gotten me to the first floor faster, I might have welcomed it. If did happen to trip, the pain would be mediocre-nothing compared to what Edward had just imparted. As I descended in a turbulent rush, my ponytail came loose from its band and strands of hair flew wildly into my eyes. I brushed them out of my face with a riled grunt as my feet hit the second floor.

_Only one more set of stairs and then you're out. Don't you dare fall now._

When I reached the lobby, I burst through the front door, causing the bell to clink madly, as if echoing my own frustration and confusion. As the door slowly closed behind me, one more little soft chime sounded as the bell stilled. Tears prickled in my eyes again; that one tiny, despondent note reminded me of that one forgotten emotion: regret.

-:-

**I can't thank everyone enough for their support in the Indies! No wins for me, but it was an honor to be nominated! I, myself, voted for Carpe Noctem and Fiat Lux (Jes…I owe you **_**such**_** a huge review. It's coming, I promise! Congratulations, honey! Well deserved!) Also, there's one story I've recently started reading called "Fate Worse than Death" by nosleep3. It's INCREDIBLE. Go check it out!  
**

**I listened to plenty of music while writing this chapter, but the ones that stuck out were "Are You With Me?" by Vaux, "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M., "Cocoon" by Assemblage 23 (who I have my lovely Floridian friend Adi-Adipocere in FF land-to thank for introducing it to me!) and "Mad World" by Gary Jules.**

**Lovin-the-Handsome-Hobo totally guessed that this was Edward's secret. Well done. Someone else probably said that, too, but I don't remember! Again, thanks everyone for being patient with me. The truth is, I sit and agonize over details and emotions and dialogue, just like most writers do, I suppose. Sometimes it just takes mea long time. *Sigh* **

**xoxo**


	13. Countdown

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, I'd use the money to buy as many airline tickets as it would take for me to travel the world to find my very own Edward Cullen. Or Masen. I'm not choosy.  
**

**I'm endlessly grateful and stunned (yes, bowled over, baffled, and boggled to no end) by all the incredible messages and reviews I've received-it's not even the excitement of the number anymore (I'm not going to lie and pretend like I **_**didn't**_** bounce in my chair the day it reached over 100), it's the little gift of acknowledgment from wonderful people telling me they're in for the ride. You all have a place in my heart-and no worries, I don't charge rent. Sorry, you're there to stay ;) **

**Emilie Fauve, my incredible beta, is a huge part of why this story is still going on. Thank you Em.**

**So…I'm deeply sorry for any heart failure that I was accused of giving some readers in the last chapter! But, you know, I **_**did**_** warn you that the angst was coming in bucketfuls…that was chapters ago, but I still gave a warning. ;) (Can I also add how incredibly funny it was to read that I should have had Bella smack Edward in the face? Technically, she already **_**did**_**, once-see Chapter 9.) **

-:-

The rain had stopped, and for once had left behind a bitter chill. I stood in the parking lot, my breath showing in the newly cold air in wispy puffs as I panted in irritation. I just wanted to speed off on a road to nowhere and drive until the sun came up. Maybe I could find some kind of motel or live in my truck for a few days.

And then I realized that I had forgotten my keys. And my purse. And all of my clothes and toiletries, as they were still sitting up in my room where I'd left them. In my ridiculous hurry, I had, once again, forgotten to use my brain.

"Good job, idiot," I muttered.

_Well, what now?_ I wasn't about to trudge my way back upstairs to haphazardly shove my belongings into my bags, only to run into Edward in the hallway. I looked to my left and right, as if ready to cross a street. There really wasn't anywhere I could go. And unfortunately for me, daylight was still hours away and it wasn't exactly a smart idea to take a walk in the dark - especially not after speaking with Mr. Miller, even if I wasn't planning on heading off into the woods.

With an angry, defeated sigh, I turned around and went back into the lodge, wincing at the little bell's jingle that welcomed me back.

_Thanks, you stupid piece of metal. You call yourself an instrument?_

This was getting ridiculous; getting pissed at inanimate objects was a cause for worry. I decided to sit down before I intended on making it a little replica of the Liberty Bell. The café was too bright, even with its dim lighting, and I didn't want to sit where he could see me. Maybe I could hide in the ladies' bathroom… Though, there wasn't really anywhere to sit in there except a toilet. I wasn't _that_ desperate. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I finally settled on a couch that was in a shadowed corner by the fireplace. I sat against the arm and curled my knees to my chest, laying my head against the soft cushion.

I thought back to earlier that morning - the calm before the wretched storm, if I could even say that, since, technically, the skies had been quite active. But even so, there had been so many choices, decisions, questions, words, and actions I would have done differently. I could have gone after Edward when I heard him wake in the middle of the night. I could have stayed at the breakfast table. I could have knocked on his door before my nap or before I left to meet Angela. Or I could have hung up with Charlie the second Edward had knocked on _my_ door and turned off my cell phone; not only that, I could have found out _why _he was knocking. I knew that he wouldn't have visited just to see if I was okay because I was having a conversation after midnight.

_There's no use in worrying about it now. _

So, I closed my eyes and sang Metallica's _Enter Sandman _in my head, flushing out all thoughts of warnings and my parents' frantic phone calls, of Brandon and his clichéd napkin and wandering hands, and of Edward and his nightmares and secrets and beautiful, soulful eyes. And just like that, the sharp tune of my mental electric guitar and its sinister sound suddenly transformed into the melodic, melancholy notes of Ludovico Einaudi's _Primavera, _the song that had been playing in Edward's car on our way to Port Angeles.

I opened my eyes in confusion. _Really, Bella? Really?_

I huffed and grabbed a pillow, pulling it to my chest with a tight squeeze. I supposed that I could let the air out of his tires just to spite him, but with my luck, he had a pump in his trunk. Or that stupid Volvo had secrets of its own and could transform into the fucking Batmobile and grow a helicopter blade.

The conjured mental image of Edward channeling Bruce Wayne made me snort. I chuckled minutely before I suddenly heard footsteps far above my head. They were coming quickly - echoing thuds that resembled a small stampede.

God, was that what I had sounded like? I hoped I hadn't awakened any of the other guests with _my_ footfalls.

I could only assume the culprit was Edward. Hell, if he really was in _that_ kind of a hurry, he should have taken me up on my offer of hauling one of his bags downstairs. Though, at that point, I might have just thrown it down the stairs instead. I shrank back into the cushion, pulling my legs closer to my body as if that might make me less visible. I knew I wasn't going to be able to tear my eyes away from watching him walk out the door, but I had no intention of letting him see _me_.

His figure was shadowed as he raced down the stairs, not hesitating for even a second as he reached the foyer. He ran for the door and shoved it open, then disappeared. Again, the bell went wild, then rested with a reverberating peal as the door closed.

And that was that.

I loosened my grip on myself, letting my legs slide away from me and slumping my shoulders. A creeping pain came back to my chest and it slowly spread, like a ripple in still water.

_Gone._

I sighed heavily, willing my eyes to stop their threatening prickle, but then curiously looked back at the door, having a sudden realization.

He hadn't been carrying bags.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to think of what he could be doing. It wasn't like he had to pull his car up to the curb. But I didn't wonder about it for too long, because I realized that this was my opportunity to race back upstairs and lock myself in my room. If he was outside, then I wouldn't run into him. I could get in the shower and the rushing water and creaking pipes would cover the sound of him leaving. Then, I could call Charlie and Renée and tell them I was leaving for California or Maui or wherever-

The bell chimed again and I snapped my head in the direction of the sound, watching as Edward slowly walked through the door. I held my breath, like a child might do to remain quiet in a game of hide and seek, and squinted through the darkness, trying to see the look on his face. It was difficult to make out, but he still looked upset. At least his anger had seemingly faded.

He stood quietly for a few moments, glancing around the room and, thankfully, not looking in my direction. But then, he walked right toward me and I froze.

_Crap. He sees you. _He probably thought I was lurking in the dark in order to spy on him. And he had a law background, so he would probably threaten to sue me for stalking. But then, he abruptly sat down in the very same armchair in which I'd been sitting earlier that morning. The chair was turned so that he wasn't facing me, but I remained still. I watched him carefully, listening to him take slow, deep breaths.

He had absolutely no idea that I was there, only ten feet away.

_Well, great. Now you're stuck. Are you up for pulling an all-nighter?_

My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and I could see a small holder of coasters beside a lamp on a table next to me. I contemplated chucking one over his head to cause a distraction. If he got up to see what the hell had made a noise, maybe I could rush upstairs before he could stop me. Or maybe I could pay him back and hiss, "_Get ouutt,"_ in my Amityville voice just to scare the pants off of him.

_Ha. No, no - _stop_. _Thoughts like those were the reason why I'd gotten into trouble in the first place.

I waited, expecting him to stand up at any moment, but he didn't move except to tap his fingers along the arm of the chair, slowly drifting his hand back and forth. The longer I watched him, the more awkward I felt. I _was_ sort of spying on him now, even if _he_ had intruded on my hiding spot first. Another minute slowly ticked by and he still made no move to get up. I was a bit disappointed that he wasn't talking to himself, even when he thought he was alone; I longed to read the thoughts running through his head. But I was growing bored of sitting in the dark, among this heavy black hole, absorbing us both into its cheerless abyss.

_This is ludicrous._

"Edward, what are you doing?" I finally blurted.

He shot out of his seat at lightning speed, knocking into one of the bookcases with a thump. A few books fell off the shelf and landed at his feet and he nearly tripped as he caught his balance on one of the shelves. "B-Bella?" he called, squinting into the darkened sitting area. "Where are you?"

I reluctantly reached over the table and felt for the lamp, pulling on its small cord and brightening the area around us. Blinking from the newfound light, I gave him a jaded look and creased my eyebrows when I noticed that his hair was wet.

_That's strange. _It couldn't be raining again already, could it?

I half expected him to launch into a tirade and demand to know if I was following him, or scream for Doris, even. But he simply stared at me, giving off looks of anxiety, guilt, and surprisingly, relief.

I turned my head to stare into the empty fireplace, unsure of what to say or how to feel. After a few moments, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly walk over and sit down on the opposite end of the couch on which I was sitting.

"Why are you down here?" he asked quietly after a short period of silence.

_Ha! _I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Because _apparently_, the fourth floor isn't big enough for the both of us. And I left my keys upstairs." _Actually, because you kicked me out of your room and _my _room is tainted with visions of _you _in my chair, in my bed, in my bags rummaging for my panties..._

"I…" He sighed and leaned forward a bit, resting his chin on his hands. "I'm - I'm sor-"

"Please don't trouble yourself with an _apology_, Edward," I interrupted, curling my arms around my legs again. Maybe if he had stopped me in his room or even at the stairs before I ran down, I might have listened. Actually, I _knew_ I would have, which was why I couldn't let myself believe for a second that he was being genuine now. It would only hurt again when he came back with how I was '_just like the rest of them.'_

Edward immediately ran his hands through his damp hair and straightened, only to lean back on the cushions. We were silent for another minute before I said, "I thought you were leaving."

"I was," he answered softly. "I am."

As much I tried to remain numb, the pain in my chest sliced a bit deeper. He was still leaving.

"Then why are you still here?" I asked without facing him, repeatedly pushing my stubborn hair out of my eyes before pulling my hair band out altogether, tossing it on the table next to me. "Don't you need your bags to leave? Actually, why are _you _sitting down here?"

I could tell that he was staring at me, so I finally turned to face him as well. He was peering at me with his piercing green eyes, looking worse than he did earlier that morning. My stomach flipped at the memory, but I couldn't bring myself to forget how he looked only ten minutes ago: hostile, angry, and intolerable.

"You weren't in your room," he said faintly. "I thought I could stop you. I thought maybe you-"

"Maybe I was sitting in my car and bawling over you?" I asked, glaring at him. "Are you _that_ narcissistic?" He didn't answer right away, so I continued, feeling my body heat with unbridled frustration. "Or maybe you thought I liked your _face_ and _voice_ so much because everyone else does, and you're so used to it that you can't tell when someone is genuinely sticking around for what's _inside_ of you!"

He sat still, only moving to clutch a handful of his shirt like a stress ball. "I deserve that," he said thickly, shifting his eyes to his feet.

Breathing deeply, I felt faintly calmed by his acquiescence. I stuck my thumbnail in my mouth and bit down, surprising myself as it finally broke from all the pressure I'd been giving it all week. Because of _him_. Startlingly, from merely such a small action, the anger rushed back to me like a gust of wind. "And you know, you were right - you should have just left me alone. If you were so hell-bent on not making friends, then why did you waste your time just _telling_ me to stay away from you? Why didn't _you_ stay away from _me_?"

He put his hands to his forehead and compressed his temples, slowly sucking in his breath. "I don't _know_, Bella," he said in a inhibited whisper. "I tried, but I couldn't do it. Every time I was alone, I promised myself that I would keep my distance, or that the next time I saw you would be the last." He shook his head, looking sickened with himself. "Telling you to stay away was a poor attempt on my part. Obviously, it didn't work. You could see through me... and it surprised me.

"I usually scare people away. I mean, my appearance alone is enough to make people think twice about coming up to me. I don't sleep much, so I look like a drug addict," he said, scoffing. "But you treat me differently. You never looked at me with any kind of judgment and you certainly didn't throw yourself at me."

I narrowed my eyes and tightened my arms around my waist, not understanding. Edward's expression softened even more as he studied my face. "What I said after dinner last night, I meant it. What I just said tonight about you being like everyone else… I was trying to push. I didn't want to pull you any deeper into this... this _emptiness _that I carry around with me. So, I lied."

I played with my hair since my thumbnail was out of commission, feeling a little lightheaded from both of our conflicted emotions. But I was determined to stay mad. It hurt less."So, Pinocchio, why are you telling me this now? What made you change your mind?"

He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to the floor. "The look on your face when I yelled at you," he said penitently, trailing his hand down his shirt to the middle of his chest. "I didn't expect it affect me the way it did."

I looked down, realizing that I had unconsciously mirrored his gesture and was now gripping my shirt, right over my sternum. I had a hard time believing that he could have felt the way I did, but there was agony in his eyes. He glanced up at me again, seeming wholly fraught with misery. "I'm sorry," he murmured, sighing as he leaned back against the cushions once more.

My steadfast resentment was failing fruitlessly and the familiar urge to pull him into my arms was growing. I might have, too, if it hadn't been for one little thought that was keeping me grounded.

"But you're still going to get in your car and leave," I countered, feeling nervous that my eyes would betray me and produce unwanted tears. "I don't understand why."

Edward rubbed his eyes. "I would never want you to understand."

I put my arms behind my head in resignation and leaned against the sofa, too. After everything he'd ever said, I shouldn't have been surprised. "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked weakly. "You finally open up and then say something like _that_, and it throws me completely off balance. So, what am I supposed to do, just wait in this little purgatory and just try to forget you completely?"

Although, the notion didn't sound like purgatory. It sounded like hell.

"I told your father that I have your best interests at heart," he said. "And I do. After thinking about it, it would be better if you weren't around me. I'm toxic, Bella."

_And I thought _I _was self-deprecating. _He actually thought of himself as poison. Then, I had a startling comprehension: I'd said something very similar to him only days ago, when I was explaining about Phil. I always felt that guilt had a way of creeping up inside me, spreading its unseen impurity until I felt contaminated. And looking at Edward, I could see that he was fully paralyzed by it.

"I can't really grasp it, Edward," I said, shifting my position so that I was facing him. "There's nothing toxic about what you did. An accident, yes. A loss? Of course. But to label yourself as some kind of destruction…" I shook my head. "I can't believe it. In fact, I _don't_ believe it."

There was still reservation swimming in his eyes and I could see that simply talking wasn't going to get through to him. I scooted myself over until I was sitting right next to him, trying to keep myself from looking like his little, longing groupie. The ache in my chest was still a bit raw from his earlier affront; even if he had apologized, I didn't want to come across the wrong way by accident. However, once I got a look at him up close, I couldn't resist cupping my hand around his cheek. "Don't go," I said, sliding my hand over and into his hair. "Please, don't leave. I can't-"

_Mental shot of tequila. Just _say _it._

"I can't lie and pretend that I'm not attracted to you," I said, deciding to ignore the errant flush that warmed my face. "But it's not just your face or your eyes - and God _damn_ it, Edward, your eyes are tenaciously _invigorating. _I can't believe you haven't caused accidents with those things." I was sure that I was mistaken, but I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitch the slightest bit. "Anyway, it's not only physical. It's … there's no practical way to describe it. When you said that you were leaving - when you pushed me away and said… well, you know."

He lowered his eyes, still guilt-ridden. I sighed and instantly lifted his chin.

"I felt like something was torn out of me," I said drawing my hand up to my chest, lightly scratching the fabric of my shirt. "Regardless of whatever went on, these past few days have been kind of incredible. I like your company. I like _myself_ when you're around, too. And I know it's exceedingly selfish to ask… but please, will you stay? For a little while longer?"

He stared back at me, remaining silent and solemn, and nothing more.

_Oh, Christ. You're __begging __him to stay. Like a puppy. _

I withdrew my hand, feeling very much like a child pleading with their mother to get them a candy bar. "I don't blame you, you know," I said quietly. "What has it been, only four days since we've met? No wonder you're exhausted."

I _was _selfish. I'd entered his life by chance, yes, but I probably did a lot more damage than good, no matter what he said. Somehow, in the short amount of time we had spent together, I'd interrupted his quiet life and managed to mix him up with the police, the hospital, put him through an unfair interrogation with Charlie, and I had all but given him a mental breakdown by demanding answers about his troubled past when he clearly was not ready to discuss it. I really did destroy everything and everyone around me; if anything, _I_ was the destructor.

"You know, before you told me anything, I used to bounce assumptions around in my mind, trying to figure out who you were," I continued, suddenly finding my eyes drawn to the floor. "I thought maybe you were on the run from the government or some paranoid, habitual offender. Even a high-functioning schizophrenic."

He made a slight noise that might have been the bud of a laugh that didn't bloom.

"But you're just sad," I said, pushing myself up from the sofa. My legs felt shaky. "And tired. Tired of me interfering with everything, probably, or messing things up. It's silly, really, to think that I might have been able to be something good for you."

Edward stood up, then, and grasped my shoulders. I looked up, immediately taken in by his passionate reconnaissance, feeling lightheaded from the compelling effect it had. His hands were so warm, but goosebumps still prickled over my skin at his touch. "Bella," he said in a despairing voice, "how could you ever think such a thing?"

"Because you're still leaving," I said regrettably, nearly forgetting to breathe. "Aren't you?"

_Say no. Have a clairvoyant moment. Prove me wrong._

But his eyes were the clearest of windows, and I had to look closely past the squalor and reservation to see it, but it was still there: he'd made up his mind. This was the last time that I was going to see him.

Unable to hold back a small, involuntary, strangled sound in my throat, I stepped closer and took a deep breath. "I…"

'I'll see you later' wasn't true. 'Goodbye' felt so … _stupid_. There was nothing good about it. I finally took the final step and encircled my arms around him, hugging him tightly as shreds of composure peeled away from me, and my breath wavered as I inhaled, trying to savor the alluring sensation of being close to him.

"I'll miss you," I whispered, barely audible, as my lips brushed against his shirt. His sweet fragrance was overwhelming and I could feel myself starting to tremble as he put his arms around me, embracing me in his shielding arms.

_Run. You're going to break._

It took all the strength I had not to cling to him for all that I was worth, but somehow, I managed to pull away, surprised that his clasp was broken almost reluctantly. I couldn't look at him. If I did, I knew my tears would start to spill faster than I could tear my gaze away.

Backing away from him and turning toward the stairwell was difficult, but my hair thankfully swept into my face and hid my pained expression. I climbed the stairs slowly at first, hoping to hear him call out my name or tell me to wait. But the only sound that came was the grandfather clock, announcing that it was half past one AM.

_Just go._

I quickened my steps, feeling the pain spread, scooping out my insides to make room for more emptiness. I was barely aware of where I was going; thank God the steps were an easy, one-way trail. Eventually, I reached the fourth floor and breezed past Edward's door to my own, pulling it open and locking it behind me.

I was out of breath. My lungs ached, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and my mouth was pleading for water, probably recognizing the impending dehydration that I was in for. I went into the bathroom and instead of satisfying my thirst, I turned on the shower, twisting the lever as far as it would go to the left - the hottest setting. I was desperate for noise since I knew Edward would be coming back for his bags, and I was not about to listen to his door close for the final time.

Out of the blue, my phone beeped from inside my pajama pants. I pulled it out and saw that I had a text message. Charlie. _'R U OK?'_ Charlie would never spell like that; Renée must have figured out his phone.

I knew I had to call them sooner or later. I left the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and grunting under my breath as I dialed Charlie's number. It didn't even get through one full ring.

"Bells?" Charlie was attempting to sound firm, but I could hear the miniscule amount of remorse in his voice. _Good_.

"I know everything and he's leaving," I stated plainly, not wasting any time. "If you both fly over here, I swear to God that I'll abandon my truck and fly to Canada. I'm not even kidding."

"Bella Swan, check your tone," Charlie answered. "We were just worried."

"You had _no_ right to grill him like that," I continued. "Is that how you're going to treat everyone I meet?"

"You should know who you're dealing with before-"

"You think you know him because you read his _report_," I spat, uninhibited anger lacing my words. "You have no clue what kind of person he is. He's thoughtful and gentle and _kind, _only you would never even _consider_ that, even before you read anything about him."

"I'm sorry that I made you upset," said Charlie, "but I won't apologize for looking out for you. You're my daughter and I'm not about to let you-"

"_Let_ me?" I exclaimed. "In case you've forgotten, I am an _adult_. You lost the privilege of _letting _me do anything three years ago. And you have no idea about the things that I've gotten myself through _by myself_."

The last part was uncalled for and I knew that. I'd chosen to remain silent after what had happened with Phil and never gave either of my parents a reason to suspect that I was holding in a secret. But for the time being, I felt wholly defeated, and this conversation was only adding small shards of regret into my already aching chest.

"I need some time by myself," I muttered before Charlie could defend himself. "I'm fine and I don't want you and Mom coming to see me. Tell her I'll call in a few days, okay?" Silence. I sighed and added a quick, "I love you."

After a few more moments of minor static, Charlie finally heaved a sigh of his own and said, "Love you, too."

For some reason, hearing it back made unexpected tears rise to my eyes and I barely managed to utter a choked goodbye before ending the call. I hastily pulled off my pajamas and opened the bathroom door to be met with a muggy wall of steam. The water had reached a nearly scalding degree, but I got in anyway, only playing with the temperature for a second before letting the surge of water spill over my body, immersing me in its torrent.

I didn't reach for shampoo or soap. I didn't even run my fingers through my hair or tilt my head back to allow the warmth to spread under my neck. Instead, I put one hand on the wall for support and hid my face in the other, wretchedly squeezing my temples.

"Ten," I whispered aloud. "Nine. Eight."

It was the only method I knew to keep from crying. I only used it when I was on the verge of a complete sob-fest, which was rare. But the feeling was bubbling with pressure - hot like fire - and on its way to eruption.

"Six," I gasped, beginning to lose control. "Five. Four…"

A whimper escaped my lips and I sucked in another quick breath, praying for poise. "Three… two…"

_One. The number that defines you._

I slowly sunk to the bottom of the tub, my hand squeaking on the glass door as I sat, beaten by a goddamned countdown. I suddenly wished for the ability to shed my own skin; I felt nothing but worn, tainted, bruised, and battered from physical and emotional collisions. I fisted my fingers in my soaking hair and moaned as the water sloshed over my face, mixing with my tears. My cheeks burned red, not from the temperature of the shower, but from the non-stop, chaotic roller coaster that I had ridden, plunging me from fire to ice, from day to night.

My pitiful sobs reverberated through the bathroom, and even though the lights were a bright ambiance and a heated stream was rushing over my skin, I'd never felt so cold or so absorbed by darkness.

-:-

**I know. Ouch. Sadness. Let me have it…I can take it. I think.**

**Thanks again, everyone, for the patience. :)**


	14. Sunlight and Speckled Insight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just mess with the characters' poor little minds. I'm such a bully.**

**Somehow, I managed to write this somewhere between having some sort of 48-hr flu (blah!), watching a Ravens pre-season game, and during a tornado warning when I was hiding in my bathroom. Ha! I hope the outcome is decent! (That goes for the next chapter, too. I had to split it because it was getting way too long!)**

**Emilie Fauve, you have my thoroughgoing thanks for being a brilliant beta and a fantastic friend. (Whoa, alliteration!)**

**Even though everyone might be tired of hearing it, I love you for your support. It keeps me motivated and feeling all warm and fuzzy. I appreciate you all. Even all my little story lurkers (Aka: alert/favorite only! Yes, you!), who don't come out to say hello--I appreciate you, too. ;) ****Also, can I mention how much better this looks in the "3/4" story width format? Just a thought--click on it right above the chapter drop-down box. I should have said that a long time ago. **

**Yeah, I know. My A/Ns could have a story of their own. My apologies. Bella and Edward missed you--read on.**

-:-

My eyelids felt like rusted locks as I strained to open them, only to shut them fiercely as an unexpected ray of light nearly blinded me. I rolled over, plunging my face into my pillow and relaxed at the darkness it provided.

_Only now you can't breathe._

I groaned and rolled toward the opposite wall, blinking as I adjusted my eyes to the light in the room.

_Good God, Bella, you could make a shirt from all the cotton in your mouth. Not to mention your head…_

Luckily, I wasn't nauseous--my head was pounding like it was being rolled upon by a sumo wrestler, but that was my own damned fault for not eating dinner the night before and sucking down a pound of Sangria, only to have an emotional breakdown in the shower, and forgetting to take a sip of water in between it all. I'd remained in my watery sanctuary for about an hour or so. Not having the strength to stand, I stayed on the floor of the tub, eventually reaching for some shampoo and such to pass the time between my waterlogged blubbering. By the time I finally managed to convince my body to cooperate and carry me to bed, I looked like a giant prune.

I kicked off my comforter and an instantaneous smack on the wall made me flinch and nearly jump out of bed. Then, there was a small clatter, and I realized it wasn't _that _sort of bang I was used to hearing. I'd actually sent my cell phone flying off my bed, which had been tucked in with me all night, and it had hit the wall by the door.

Groaning, I crawled out of bed and retrieved my phone, only to see that half the screen had been cracked, right across the digital clock.

It was eleven-fifty-four in the morning_. Holy shit._

I squinted at the windows, surprised that sunlight was actually streaming in. I supposed the trees had never been blocking it--the clouds were responsible for all the murkiness. Well, what a day for the clouds to finally lift. I glared at the little sunbeams.

_You're either too late or too early, you photon fuck-up._

Ignoring the fact that I was _actually _cursing the skies, I made my bed slowly, painstakingly folding the sheets and straightening the pillows to waste more time. Even though it was already the middle of the day, I wasn't excited to start yet.

Things were going to be similar to the first day I arrived at the lodge--I was just here for some quiet, alone time to get my act together so that I could try to be happy wherever I went next. Now, if I could only disregard the lingering, hollow pain that was still inside my chest from the memories of what happened _after_ I arrived, I would be just fine.

_I feel you. I got it. Dissipate already._

I brushed my teeth slowly. I brushed my hair slowly. I did, however, wash my face quickly because the water was freezing--hell, I'd probably used up all of the hot water that the lodge had to offer. In fear that I _would_, in fact, start shedding my own skin from having been immersed for so long earlier that morning, I decided that I'd had enough of the shower scene and pulled on a worn pair of jeans and a white sweater, and only gave into putting on make-up so no one would stare at my washed-out skin and depleted eyes.

Once I was somewhat presentable, I retrieved my room key from my purse, stuffed my cell phone into my pocket, and took a deep breath as I walked out the door. It was silent, though I almost felt the need to tiptoe past the now-vacant room beside me…a force of habit. Still hesitant to get to the lobby, I indolently took one stair at a time, pausing between each one before I took another step. I felt the ridges in the wooden banister underneath my fingers as I trailed my hand along, ready to clench it in a firm grip in case I had a clumsy moment. And inevitably, I started thinking about Edward.

He was probably in Wyoming, or even Nebraska by now, if he had decided to head east. Unless he went north, heading to Canada. Or maybe he was en route to Mexico. He could have been on another planet, for all I knew.

_Girls go to Mars to get more candy bars. Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider._ I shook my head. _Yup. You're still seven years old inside. Freak. You need to hydrate._

I kept my eyes on the floor all the way down to the last set of stairs that led to the lobby. As I finally lifted my head, I saw Doris looking at a calendar behind her desk. She wouldn't have known that Edward left, would she? Unless he had written her a note or something before he hightailed it out of here. Oh, God, the questions that I was in for…

_Man, she's going to interrogate you like a member of the KGB. And then probably run to his room to see if it's true and probably cry and--_

Suddenly, I was on my ass.

I missed a step and my foot had shot out from under me, sending me sliding down the last few stairs on my bottom. Doris turned toward me as soon as gravity had completed its task, her mouth forming a complete 'O,' and hurried over.

"Good golly gracious!" she exclaimed, coming over to me and leaning down, offering me her hand. "Are you okay, dear?"

I suddenly found the whole situation funny and surprised myself by laughing. At least not everything had changed. "I'm fine," I said, nearly snorting at myself, allowing Doris to help me up. "Thank you," I added, running my fingers through my hair in embarrassment.

Doris brushed off my shoulders and back. "My goodness, Isabella. You're going to give me a heart attack."

My smile disappeared at her words, thinking that it was the third time I'd heard that statement within five days. "Sorry," I said. "That's typically the kind of entrance I make. Good morning, by the way…or afternoon. I lost track of time this morning."

_I lost track of a _lot _of things this morning._

"Oh, it's good to see you, too, dear," said Doris, chipper as usual. "I've had a slow morning myself, what with planning for the picnic this afternoon."

"Picnic?" I repeated.

"Oh, I'm such a silly old woman, I can't believe I didn't mention it before," said Doris, grinning and waving her hand to door. "I've been bugging Tom for weeks, now, about setting up a good day for an outdoor picnic for everyone. The weather's not exactly the most cooperative here, so I figured it might be nice to take advantage of the sunshine today. It's actually a little warm out."

I fiddled with the sleeves of my sweater. Even if that was true, I still felt chilled.

"He and I were up all morning preparing food for this afternoon," she continued, as I looked around her desk at the pictures and papers that covered it. "I'll admit, I snuck in a cat nap when no one was looking," she added, winking at me.

I smiled, but I could tell by the look on her face that it must not have seemed bona fide.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked, giving me a concerned stare. "You don't seem like yourself…you look a little faded."

_Crap_. Was it that easy to tell already? So much for the make-up.

"I'm just tired," I said, twirling a piece of my hair. "Maybe it's because I skipped dinner last night…I spent the evening with Angela and later, I kind of…"

_Played with fire? Made a mess of things?_

"Lost track of time?" Doris said, echoing my previous words.

I nodded, still playing with my sweater sleeves. My eyes suddenly felt like anchors, weighted down by the sadness that I couldn't ignore, and I found myself studying the carpet, shuffling the toe of my shoe into the russet-colored fibers.

I thought back to what Doris had said, about how people came and went, but left little pieces of themselves behind. It was true, although Edward hadn't seemed to leave anything 'little' or easily forgettable behind…he had left his fingerprints--handprints, even--on my heart; shadows of his silhouette in my bedroom; echoes of thumps on the wall and knocks at my door; and the hardest to forget--phantom feelings of his arms wrapped around me like the very life force I had needed and wanted for so long.

_This emotional hangover is not going to go away today, that's for sure._

Doris patted my arm, sensing my unexplained melancholy. "Well, dear," Doris continued in a kind voice, gesturing over my shoulder, "Mr. Masen's over by the window if you're looking for him."

My head jerked up instantaneously, my teeth snapping together from the quick movement. I stared at her. "What?" I said, confused.

Doris looked at me innocently. "Right over there, dear. In the café. I just assumed you'd be sitting with him."

I whipped my head around so fast that I felt a muscle twinge in my neck. Unless I was seeing some sort of mirage due to dehydration, Doris was right. Edward was sitting at a table by the window, facing the front of the lobby--and he was staring at me. I turned back to Doris, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I felt a rapid flush invade my face and my whole body suddenly felt as though it was on vibrate. I clenched the ridge of Doris's desk with both hands.

"Goodness, Isabella, are you all right?" Doris asked, reaching out her hands to steady me.

"I'm…a little dizzy," I confessed, creasing my eyebrows in confusion. _What was he still doing here? Why on earth would he want to drag this out any longer?_

"Well, my heavens," said Doris, coming around from her desk and putting her arm around me. "I've seen that look before." She started walking me toward the café before I could think straight.

_What?! What's happening? Where--what the hell is she doing?!_

She was leading me right to Edward, though it felt like she was leading me straight into the lion's den. Each footstep forward crushed my heart and twisted my stomach as I got closer, seeing small bits of green grow fuller and brighter, until they formed perfect circles that peered at me through thick, dark eyelashes.

"Have a seat before you fall over," said Doris, pulling out the chair opposite from Edward and nudging me into it. "Now, there's still plenty of breakfast left. What can I get you? Eggs? Bacon? Oatmeal? Ooh, we had biscuits this morning!"

I looked up at her in bewilderment. "Huh?" I asked stupidly.

"Well, it's no wonder you're feeling faint, darling, without dinner last night and waiting until now to eat," she said, brushing my hair out of my face with her motherly hands. She glanced at Edward. "Oh, I see you took my advice, Mr. Masen. Chamomile calms the soul, as my mother always said."

Edward was drinking _tea_? Had I woken up in an alternative universe where he had stayed put and then turned British?

"So, Isabella, what would you like to eat?" Doris continued, apparently mistaking my woozy reaction for food deprivation. "The picnic's starting at two o'clock, but I want to make sure you get something before then. Tom makes excellent pancakes, you know. Did I mention we have biscuits?"

I was still peculiarly stuck on forming an intelligent answer and could not stop sending Edward bemused glances. I shook myself out of it and looked up at Doris pleadingly, as if she could explain why he was still here and not in Mexico or on Jupiter.

"I'll get you some biscuits," she decided, then turned on her heels toward the kitchen, leaving us alone at the table. I watched her walk away, then cautiously turned my eyes to Edward, who was still staring at me as if he was waiting to hear a verdict.

"Hi," he said quietly, cradling his cup in his hands. He waited a few moments, then asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

I gaped at him. Honestly, I was torn between feeling anxiously distressed, thinking that I was going to have to watch him "leave" again, since it appeared that he hadn't actually left, while simultaneously rejoicing in the fact that he had stayed. But even so, I wasn't sure what this was going to lead to…and I wasn't up for another night of wailing in the shower. Screw that.

"You're probably wondering what I'm still doing here," he said.

_Um, no, I'm just pondering the meaning of life!_

Edward sighed when I didn't answer, and I had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, thinking of the first time he'd ever approached me. I would have thought that, by now, he would have realized that words never came easily to me when he looked…so…

_Magically delicious. Just like his shorts say. _I rubbed my eyes. _Can you stop it with his 'looks' for one fucking second?!_

"You've got to be so tired of this," he said, sweeping his hair back. He looked nervous. "I feel terrible about yanking you back and forth."

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him that it wasn't so much back and forth as it was up and down, like a precarious seesaw. Going up was like pleasantly defying gravity; enjoying his laughter and lips and the electricity between us was incredibly stimulating. But coming down was like falling, gripping me in a panic--in misery--and not knowing if my own feet were enough to help me land.

"You don't have to sit here, you know," he continued. "Doris kind of…literally pushed you into that chair."

_Yes, she did push me into this chair! Now where is she to interrupt us when I need her?!_

"What are you thinking?" he asked after another small period of silence, as I studied his face carefully. His eyes were still vibrant, but the half-moon shadows under his lower eyelids screamed exhaustion. If he had slept, it either hadn't been in a comfortable place, or it hadn't been for long.

_Answer him. Now._

"I'm thinking that you look tired," I finally said, reaching up to play with the neckline of my sweater. I couldn't seem to stop fidgeting, especially since it was very clear, at least in my mind, that one of the last things I had said to him was that I was physically and emotionally attracted to him--I had probably come across like an addict who was talking about a fix that they were physically and emotionally _dependent _on. _Ugh._

Edward looked mildly surprised at my response, then took a quick sip of his tea. "I didn't sleep much," he admitted, then resumed turning the mug in his hands. He avoided my eyes for another moment before speaking up. "You're angry with me, aren't you?"

"No," I said quickly, being honest. "I'm not angry at all. I'm just…confused. Like you said, I'm wondering why you're here. I thought you left early this morning…I didn't expect to have to say goodbye again."

He put his tea down and rubbed his eyes with his fists, sighing. "I'm…" he began, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on top of his hands. "I'm here for a reason."

_You're out of gas? You lost your keys? You want to have a farewell fu--? Whoa. Easy, tiger._

"Good or bad?" I asked, trying to keep from getting lost in his sparkling emerald eyes.

His cheeks puffed as he blew out his breath. "That depends on how you look at it," he said.

Now it was _my_ turn to sigh. "For someone who went to law school, you sure don't say things very outright," I said, squeezing the edge of the table to keep my hands busy. "Isn't being a circulator a requirement?"

He stared at me for a moment, then gave me a half smile. "There are exceptions," he said, picking up his tea again. He couldn't seem to sit still, either.

"Okay, sweetie," came Doris's voice from behind Edward. She walked over to our table and placed a basket of biscuits, a plate of butter and jam packets, and a large glass of orange juice in front of me. "Eat up. Be sure to keep an eye on her, Mr. Masen," she added to Edward. "I don't want to see her passing out any time soon."

"You'll have to start charging me by the hour," I muttered to Edward, then looked back to Doris. "Thanks, Doris. I'm fine, I promise."

"I'm sure you are," she said, patting my shoulder. "Just trying to keep my promise to Chief Swan. He'd never admit it to you, I'm sure, but he was worried about you coming here by yourself…Oh, I completely forgot to tell you--I spoke with him this morning, in fact."

_You've got to be joking._

"Oh?" I asked, dreading what I was about to hear next. "What did he say?"

"Oh, he was just checking in, wanting to know how you were doing," she said with a knowing glint in her eyes. "I told him how you were fitting right in…how you were very cozy with Mr. Masen and a few others."

My throat constricted. "You--you told Charlie--you said that I was _cozy_ with--?" I managed to choke out, my hand involuntarily going to my mouth in horror. I couldn't look at Edward. I couldn't even focus two inches in front of me. My face was boiling.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, dear--I mentioned Angela, too," said Doris, chuckling. Innocent as she seemed, I was certain that, subconsciously, Doris was out to mortify me for life. "I can understand how parents can be. I have two boys, myself. Can't blame him for wanting to keep an eye on his little girl."

_Dear Earth… Swallow me. Love, Bella._

"Anyway, you two, enjoy the biscuits. You could stand to eat something, too, Mr. Masen," said Doris over her shoulder as she walked away.

I put my head in my hands, feeling dizzy again. If my trip so far was rewritten into a script for television, Edward and I would have already been through this dramatic song-and-dance, figured out each others' pasts during the first forty minutes of screen time, and gotten past the awkward sexual tension, having had multiple rolls in the hay. And my father certainly would have _not _made an appearance, whether it was by telephone or otherwise.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked quickly, sounding concerned. "Bella, eat something."

I glanced up, exhaling loudly as I looked at him; he had a peculiar look on his face. And no wonder.

"It's not that, it's--" I began. How could I put this without sounding like a complete freak? Honestly, there didn't seem to be any other way around it. "I'm--I'm just _sorry_. You must think I'm insane. You shouldn't have had to go through all that last night with my _dad_, with _me_--any of it. And if you only stayed so you could tell me to go screw myself, then I would completely understand."

Edward stared at me, a mixture of confusion and abstraction written all over his face. Knowing I was blushing beyond belief, I grabbed my glass of orange juice and started drinking, thinking that maybe I _should _consume some sort of nourishment before I _did_ pass out.

"That's not why I stayed," he replied softly. He looked concerned--attritional, even.

_God…did he hear you crying in the shower?! _Our walls were thin, but were they _that_ thin? Maybe the noise had carried through the pipes and sang like an opera throughout his room when he went back to get his bags. _How ungodly mortifying._

"I--I'm not un--_unstable_," I said quickly. _Right, because _stuttering _makes you sound completely unruffled. _"I mean, I was sad, but I would have gotten over it…you know that, right?" I tried to sound indifferent, but even I couldn't miss the waver in my voice from saying it to his face.

He nodded, his face changing with emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, I know that. That's not the reason."

"Then _why_?" I asked, as I sat the glass on the table, emitting a louder thump than I had expected. _Don't be so defensive. Breathe. _I chose that moment to take a bite out of a biscuit, deciding to listen instead of blurting out my every thought.

"Because…despite arguing with myself," he said, looking me straight in the eyes, "I couldn't find a reason that was strong enough to overpower how I feel about you. And trust me, I was diligent about it--I sat in my car for hours, trying to think of something that would allow me turn on the ignition. But I couldn't."

I chewed slowly, studying him--searching for any sign that he might not be telling the truth. When I realized that he was completely serious, my heart accelerated, pumping blood through my veins and spewing forth a rush of adrenaline.

"You're not alone in your feelings, you know," Edward continued. "I've been attracted to you ever since I opened my door and saw you standing there…even with all the blood," he added, cracking a small grin. "And once I knew you, everything just grew from there--more than I would have thought possible in such a short time. I care about you, too."

I somehow managed to swallow. "Oh," I answered, undoubtedly flushing pink. _Oh?! What are you, in kindergarten?! _"I…" But before I could think of anything to say to adequately describe my reaction or even hope to control myself, a convivial smile slipped out of me.

He returned the smile, and lowered his eyes in thought, showing off his pristine eyelashes. He looked back up and said, "I should have said something last night. Only, I thought it wasn't worth saying if I was just going to walk away."

I nodded, trying not to appear like an awed child at Disney World. _He cares about you. _My head was swirling with an entirely new kind of dizziness. "It's okay."

"No," he said, frowning a bit. "Not really. I'm sorry…I feel horrible that I made you so upset."

I bit my lip tentatively. "Did you go back upstairs last night? I mean, to get your bags?"

He hesitated. "Yes," he admitted, looking a bit sheepish.

I wrinkled my face in insecurity. "You heard me, didn't you?" When he didn't answer, I slid my hand over my eyes, feeling my cheeks burn. "God, that's so humiliating."

"Don't be embarrassed," said Edward quietly, and I peeked through my hand to catch him entangling his fingers in his hair.

_Ha! _I scoffed. "That's as effective as asking Lauren to keep her legs closed," I mumbled, taking another sip of orange juice.

He smiled again, laughing a bit. "Do you forgive me?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I said truthfully. "It was just a long night. Normally, I'm not so emotional. I'm surprised that I didn't chase you off faster, to be honest."

He gave me a weary look, probably wanting to reprimand me for being somewhat critical of myself, so I spoke again before he could. "I can't pretend like I'm not still curious," I said, twirling my biscuit in my hand. "Why did you feel like you had to leave at all?"

Edward rubbed his shoulder, pausing to stare out the window. "Because I knew I was going to disappoint you," he said in a faint voice.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "How would you disappoint me by staying?"

He continued to gaze through the glass and I was suddenly apologetic for feeling so callous about the sun earlier. The beams lit up his face, making his eyes sparkle. I couldn't look away, all the while wondering if he knew how beautiful he really was. If only it wasn't for the familiar sadness that was also included in his expression…

"I haven't told you everything about me," he said, picking up his tea again to take a drink. "I'm not even sure where to start, really."

Somehow, I still couldn't believe that no matter what he told me would ever be enough to _disappoint _me, but if he was willing to tell me _anything_, I wasn't about to argue with him. He remained quiet for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought.

"You could start by telling me why you left home," I suggested quietly. It had been a touchy subject so far, but I had a feeling that it was the root of his burden.

Edward nodded, sighing lightly as he looked down at his hands. "I could," he said, a step away from whispering. He took a deep breath, and neither he nor I missed the quiver that was present in it. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, appearing uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," I said quickly, piecing together the familiar signs of what would inevitably lead to an utter despondence on his part.

"No, you deserve an explanation," he said, twisting his mug in his hands again. "I, um…"

My expression softened as I saw him slowly slink behind his protective mental shield. It was perplexing how quickly he could go from one emotion to the other--and as usual, he lapsed straight back to vulnerability. As each second slowly passed, I could almost _feel_ his vacillation, as if it was radiating off of him in waves. Whatever he was about to say wasn't coming easy; it was making him upset. He didn't continue, so I habitually played with my hair, staring at the table so I wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable.

The sound of him taking another deep inhale made me look up. "This is hard," he admitted. "It feels cruel to tell you, but also to keep from you."

I leaned forward a fraction of an inch, trying to look for the answer in his eyes, which were suddenly pouring desperation. My eyebrows raised curiously and then I was distracted by movement. His hands were shaking--the tea inside his mug was quivering as though it were a pond during a small earthquake, and I alternated my gaze between his troubled expression and his unsteady fingers. Was he _scared _to tell me?

"Edward?" I said quietly, giving him a look of concern, then glancing back at his hands. Once he realized what I was staring at, he set the mug down quickly and pulled his hands into his lap, appearing discomfited. "We don't have to talk about it," I continued. _Damn it, Bella. _"I shouldn't have brought it up."

Edward looked away, seemingly frustrated, probably with himself, and once again, blameworthy. He needed a serious dose of self-worth.

"You're really staying?" I asked, suddenly afraid that he would just blurt something out and run to his car. "I mean, not forever, obviously, but for now?"

He ran his hand over his forehead and put his fist to his mouth before nodding slowly. _He's really staying. _The strained ache in my chest dissipated immensely, and I would have smiled exuberantly if he wasn't still so aggrieved.

"Well, then there's no reason you have to tell me now, at this moment," I said carefully. "You don't have to tell me at all--not unless you're ready and you want to."

"I'm sorry," Edward barely whispered, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous. _I'm _ridiculous."

He was still visibly trembling; seeing him so worked up was even making _me _anxious. Although, _my _anxiety wasn't making me clam up--it made me more inclined to pull him into my arms and not let go until sunset. "You're not," I said. "Obviously, it's not something easy to talk about or you would have said it already."

He turned his head slightly, glancing at the people around us. We weren't being loud, but even quiet conversation was easily overheard. Maybe he didn't want to say anything in front of anyone else.

I slid the basket of biscuits closer to him. "You heard Doris," I pressed, trying to distract him from whatever was racing through his thoughts. "Help me make a dent in these."

With that, I promptly buttered what was left of my biscuit. He didn't make a move to take one; he only sipped his tea, settling for staring out into the sunny parking lot. "You know," I said, after swallowing a small bite, "maybe there's something else you can tell me about."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "What's that?" he asked softly.

It took all I had to keep a straight face. "You could explain those leprechaun boxers of yours. I figure they must have had an interesting past."

That got him. At first he seemed slightly confused, but then his mouth parted and realization spread across his face. "Oh," said Edward, setting his mug on the table, the faintest trace of amusement coming out in his eyes. "_Those_."

"Mm-hmm," I said, cracking a grin. "They were kind of hard to miss."

"I'm sure," he answered, leaning his chin on his hand. "They were a Christmas gift, actually. Secret Santa at the law office."

I fought the urge to ask him if the little slogan on said boxers was true. "Underwear. That's…a very sensible gift, though," I said, trying to cover my smile by drinking my juice.

"Yes," he said, and his lips formed a peculiar smirk. "It could have been worse. I could have been the guy who got the pair with candy canes that said, 'My holiday stick is thick and quick.'"

Orange juice shot down my throat so fast, I almost dropped the glass. I sputtered, half choking and half laughing, and I slapped my hand over my mouth, desperately praying that juice wouldn't come out my nose next. Edward calmly handed me a napkin, and despite my worked up state, I was delighted by the authentic smile on his face.

"Finally got you back," he said, looking fairly satisfied with himself.

I wiped my face, knowing that it had turned a furious shade of red--though, it wasn't the only part of me that had heated up royally. A heat wave was flushing through my lower girly half as my mind replayed the candy cane axiom, unable to _not _wonder if _Edward's _was_--_

_Get a _hold _of yourself. You're at the table, for God's sake!_

"Oh my God," I muttered, giggling under my breath. I bit my lip and stared at him, pleased to see that he was finally comfortable again. "Touché."

He chuckled and finally reached for a biscuit and some raspberry jam. I sighed, thinking that I should enjoy the time we had while it lasted, especially if he was smiling. I certainly wasn't going to take _that _for granted. I would be there when he wanted to talk about serious things…though, I could tell that it might take some time.

We lingered at the table after we finished eating while other guests started to filter outside the back door for the picnic, I presumed. It was only one-thirty, but people tended to get excited when there was food involved. Edward was increasingly beginning to show signs of drowsiness--leaning his head on his hand, rubbing his eyes, and yawning, only to stretch or shake his head slightly, as if to snap himself out of it--and it was kind of cute in a way, like watching a stubborn child try to stay awake.

I finally suggested getting up to stretch our legs, and he obliged, following me to the front of the lobby. We stopped to let a couple pass us and I took that moment to face Edward, who was compressing the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a moment.

"You're exhausted," I stated, reaching up and brushing hair away from his forehead.

He nodded subtly and looked to the side. There was the slightest trace of stubble along his jaw and I had to pull my hand back to stop from stroking his face. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" I suggested. "It can't be healthy, the way you've been losing sleep."

He laughed halfheartedly. "I suppose not. I'm not dead, yet, though."

I rolled my eyes. "Good _Lord_," I said, walking to the stairs. "Well, if I were you, I wouldn't wait around until death came for me. Don't you think you could use an hour or two?"

"I think I could use ten," he said, managing a smile.

I sighed and slid my hand up his arm, along the smooth fabric of his brown shirt. "Do you want me to come with you? Or give you some space?" I asked, squeezing his arm gently. _And…you're touching him. _"You can be honest."

Edward enchantingly combed through my hair with his hand, lightly holding the back of my head. _Now he's touching _you. My breath always seemed to run out when he did that. "I appreciate that, but you should go outside and enjoy the day," he said, nodding toward the back door. "I'm sure Doris would miss you if you didn't."

I nodded, trying to seem unfazed by the chills that were tingling all over my body. "Okay," I said, understanding that he might want some privacy.

Edward closed his eyes with a soft sigh, then opened them again. "Later…can I see you?"

_He had to be kidding. Like I would really say no!_

"Sure," I said, finally getting my breath back. "I'll be around here somewhere."

"I'll look for you," he said with a final caress to my cheek. Then, his warm hand left my face as he turned to walk up the stairs. Only then did my heart slowly return to a normal rhythm.

_Damn, what a workout. Edward Masen, certified dazzler, guaranteed to make you reach your target heart rate in less than fifteen seconds._

I turned around just in time to see two elderly ladies--the same ones Edward and I had sat near during the movie--staring at me with wide grins. _Mother of God. Days of Our Wilderness Lives. _I gave them a small, self-conscious wave and booked it to the back door, thinking that for such a small town, and in such a quiet place, I hadn't had a boring moment yet.

-:-

**This chapter was for queenofgrey, considering her recovery from surgery! (Hope you're getting some decent comfort, honey!) Now go check out her **_**Carpe Noctem & Fiat Lux **_**if you haven't already. But beware--you won't be able to stop reading.**

**So, all my usual end comments will be on the next chapter. It's very close to being done. Expect it in a day or two (and hopefully I'm not putting my foot in my mouth by saying that!) My poor beta has to read through it all, so patience, please? Thanks, my lovelies. :)**


	15. Mixing with the Rain

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just own a mouth with half of my foot in it. It took me four days to post instead of one or two. Forgive me? Oh, and I don't own the poems "Afterflakes" or "A Dream Pang" by Robert Frost. I just use his stuff because I love it so.**

**Emilie Fauve deserves an award for putting up with me through this one.**

**Wait for the end-then I'll unleash my blabbermouth. :P**

-:-

The weather _was _beautiful, just like Doris had said. The sun was shining just enough to keep the air warm, but even the constant breeze was refreshingly welcoming. Everyone was outside, amicably joined together at faded, wooden picnic tables that were scattered across the grass. It was my first time seeing outside the back of the lodge, and it was remarkable. There was a wide stretch of incredibly green grass, like a prairie, that turned into a small hill, which led to another leveled acre of land before a vast tree line. It was the kind of roomy, outdoor bliss that made the little girl inside me want to run, spin around in circles, and roll down the hill, soaking up all the smells and sensations of the tickling grass and fresh wind.

Even with thoughts of Edward in the back of my mind, I couldn't pretend like I wasn't enjoying myself. Doris, of course, was giddy and chatting with everyone, and as soon as she spotted me, she pulled me along to get a plate of food, and showed me to a table where I was introduced to a group of women-perhaps they were the "quilting circle" Angela had joked about. Some of them told me that they knew my father (_of course_), and after I answered numerous questions about Florida and college, some were even forward enough as to offer to set me up with their sons or grandsons-I guessed Renée wasn't the only mother who wanted to play matchmaker.

Luckily, around that time, Mr. Miller, who had been witnessing the spectacle, stopped by the table and asked if he could interest me in a fruit cup. Politely excusing myself, I followed him over to the table of food, thanking him as my cheeks finally started to cool down.

"Oh, don't thank me, Ms. Bella," he said with a smirk as he handed me a cup filled with pineapple, watermelon, and grapes. "I'd be offering to introduce you to one of my own grandsons if I didn't think you already had your heart set on someone else." I gave a weak laugh, trying to find the right words to use in protest, but he winked. "I remember being young. Pining glances, little touches," he said with a wave of his hand. "I'm an old man, but I'm not senile yet. You know, I met my wife when I was around your age."

Oh, dear God. The 'W' word.

"Can - can we play chess?" I asked quickly, diverting the topic as I pointed to where he had been sitting. "I'm still a little unclear on what's best to save for the endgame. Was it the knights or the pawns?"

Mr. Miller chuckled, but nonetheless, led me over to his table. "The pawns, missy. They're often overlooked, but they can be steadfast protectors when it comes to the end."

After my impromptu chess lesson, I wandered back inside while Mr. Miller was roped into a game of horseshoes. Surprisingly, I was asked to play, but I respectfully declined, thinking that I'd certainly manage to knock either myself or someone else out if I had to throw anything made of steel.

As I entered the lobby, it was still completely void of guests. Though it was going on four o'clock, everyone was still busy socializing outside. The fireplace was still going strong, as though it was one of those automatic kind that had a switch. I glanced at the stairs, knowing full-well where I wanted to go.

_You can't. He's sleeping. Sit the hell down._

I browsed the bookshelves for a moment before falling upon my favorite Stephen King novel: _The Shining_. I curled up on the same couch as I had very early that morning, only I felt much more comfortable without swirling thoughts of drama. I read for awhile, enjoying the scent of the burning wood, and became engrossed in the story. When I got to chapter ten, the introduction of the hotel cook, Hallorann, I looked up to check the clock. Instantly, I flew back into the sofa cushions in alarm when I noticed Edward standing by the end of the staircase, leaning on the banister.

"Oh my God," I gasped, pulling the book to my chest. "You scared me."

He gave me a small smile. "Sorry," he said, taking a few steps toward me. "You looked so absorbed. I didn't want to interrupt you."

I chuckled, thinking that books often affected me to the point where I would scream if anyone so much as tapped me on the shoulder. "How long have you been standing there?

"Only a minute," Edward said, coming closer until he was by the opposite end of the couch.

I gave him a once-over. "So… any luck falling asleep?" I asked, already guessing the answer. He looked no better than he did a couple of hours ago.

Predictably, he shook his head and folded his arms, appearing cold. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, _The Shining_," I said, memorizing what page I was on and closing it. "Have you ever read it?"

He shook his head again.

"You _should_," I said, perplexed that anyone could get through their teenage years without enjoying Stephen King's finest_. _

"Maybe I'll get around to it one day," he said, rubbing his eyes.

I set the book to the side and patted the cushion next to me. "You look like you might pass out."

He shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly. "I'm okay." Even so, he sat down close to me and leaned his head back on the cushions. The firelight lit up his pale features, giving his skin a stunning glow. I watched as his chest rose slowly and steadily as he inhaled. When he let his breath out, he closed his eyes.

_Damn it_, he was gorgeous.

I ached to reach my hand out for his again. Actually, dignity aside, I wanted to touch him _everywhere_. I wanted to run my hands up his arms and chest and through his burnished mass of hair, press my body to his and encircle my legs around his waist, wrap my arms around him and plunge my lips into his -

Edward cleared his throat and I blinked repeatedly as I snapped out of it. He was staring at me.

"Sorry," I said, unconsciously running my thumb under my bottom lip to make sure I hadn't actually let any saliva escape. Luckily, it had stayed in my mouth and I quickly swallowed. My heart was a speed demon.

"Now _you_ look faint," he pointed out.

_Oh, do I, Adonis?_

I tried to regain my self-control. "Well, _you_ look like crap." The look of utter weariness on his face had not faded in the slightest. He pressed his hands to his head and yawned.

"Yeah," he agreed in a gentle voice. "I feel like it, too. I just couldn't get myself to relax. Normally, a place like this would plunge me into hibernation... I guess sleep just doesn't come easy for me anymore. It's kind of miserable, you know. Not being able to have that break."

I nodded in understanding. I'd gotten over my own long bout of insomnia after Charlie moved to Jacksonville; it gave me peace of mind to know Renée wasn't by herself anymore.

"It should be so easy," he continued, shifting his head so that he was turned in my direction. His head lolled on the cushions and he blinked slowly, as if he might drift off right then. "It's just closing my eyes. I don't know how to explain it. I miss the feeling of… I don't know."

_God, he looks fatigued. _"Of the refuge?" I offered.

He glanced at me through his half-shut eyes and nodded, muttering, "Exactly. But I don't feel safe."

My breath caught in my throat. Hearing him say such a thing made my heart stutter from the feeling of care that had fiercely started to grow inside of me, heating my veins. "Why?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to know the answer so I could do something - anything - to make it better.

He remained still except to shake his head, refusing to look up, and my shoulders drooped helplessly. I thought the hollowness of not knowing would soon drive me crazy.

"Well…" I breathed out slowly and lifted my hands from the pillow on my lap. "Why don't you try again? I ... could try to _help_ you feel safe."

_Christ. Way to go, Dr. Phil._

Edward languidly rubbed his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked.

I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks go pink. "I mean … put your head down for a few minutes," I said, gesturing to the pillow on my lap. "Just try to relax. If you fall asleep, I'll be here to wake you up if you need me to."

He knew what I meant - if he showed any sign of having a nightmare, I wouldn't let him get far before waking him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, staring at the pillow, and then back at me. I reached over and took his hand, giving him a tug.

"It's okay," I said, pulling him closer. "No one's even around. It's just us."

Even though he seemed slightly reluctant, he obliged and curled himself up on the sofa, only leaving his feet hanging off the edge. "Are you sure?" he asked uneasily, turning his head to look at me.

I nodded, suddenly very aware that his upper body was on my lap, as though I hadn't expected to feel it, which I _had_. But the warm flow of blood that was coursing through me, combined with his torso's contact, made me feel _aroused_.

_Your hot-pocket needs an ice pack. Concentrate._

I rubbed his arm gently and combed my fingers through his hair, watching the strands flow with the direction of my hand. "You know, I used to hate anyone playing with my hair," I said, twirling sections of his tresses and then smoothing them down. "Renée used to pull me into the bathroom kicking and screaming anytime I had to get my hair done."

Edward chuckled softly. "Little hellion, were you?"

"Only when my ballet recitals rolled around," I said, making a face at the memories. "Hairspray and bobby pins and buns…"

"And _tutus,_" he said. I could see him holding back a grin.

I cringed, laughing. "Yes, those too. I looked _so _out of place."

"I'm sure you looked adorable," he said gently, his voice beginning to grow quieter.

I chuckled. "You've seen me walk, right? Ballet didn't exactly improve my coordination, and I certainly didn't just develop clumsiness overnight. I was a mess. This one little girl in my class called me 'No-Balance Bella.' I hated that girl, but I idolized her at the same time."

Edward traced his fingers on the knee of my jeans. "How so?"

"Because she was the best out of the class. Ballerinas have good control of their bodies," I said, thinking of my inability to walk without bumping into things: walls, tables, _cars_. "They're agile, graceful. They can spin without feeling as though they're being sucked into a whirlpool. They know what their next move is and how the song will end." I twirled my thumb around a lock of his hair, letting my breath out in a slow exhale. "And they never fall."

I was lost in my preoccupied thoughts for a few moments before Edward sighed softly, and the rise and fall of his body brought me back to clarity. "Everyone falls, Bella," he said, sounding insightful.

We were quiet for a few moments. He barely moved, seemingly comfortable, and I kept trailing my fingers through his hair. "Sorry. First, I ask you to try to sleep, and now here I am, rambling in your ear."

"I like the sound of your voice," said Edward, sounding distant, his eyes already closed. "It's calming."

My _voice? _"Really?" I asked, surprised. He was constantly making me blush with all his comments. I was glad his eyes were shut. "No one's ever told me that before."

"You can keep talking," Edward proposed. "That is, if you want to. I like listening."

I was silent for a few moments, trying to think of something interesting to talk about. I looked around me for inspiration and my eyes fell on the book I had set to the side. "Well… I read a lot. I guess it might have been an only-child thing. When there was no one around to play with, it was pretty convenient to slip into a world where things were different - to imagine myself as someone else.

"But I'll admit, I like poetry, too," I continued, keeping my voice at a soft volume. "Robert Frost is my favorite; he paints such vivid pictures in my mind. Sometimes it's nice to close my eyes and envision what he's written."

"Which is your favorite?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "Can I hear it?"

My eyes widened. "You … want me to say it out loud?"

"Mm-hmm," he answered, relaxing after taking a deep breath.

I wasn't the best speaker, obviously. I was sure to screw up somehow. Never mind the fact that I had actually recited two poems by Frost for Speech 101, though neither of them were my favorite. And I wasn't _about _to narrate the one that _was _my favorite. I'd humiliated myself enough in front of him.

"Um," I said, racking my brain for something short. "Afterflakes." I knew it, it wasn't that long, and it was still high on my list. "Are you _sure _you want to hear?"

Edward nodded alongside the pillow, his cheek swishing against the material. _Damn_. I tapped my fingers nervously along his arm. We really _were _by ourselves, and he was half-asleep. This would be much easier than when I'd been forced to stand in front of my entire speech class.

"Okay," I said, feeling a warm wash of blood flood into my cheeks and taking a quick breath.

_Just say it. He won't know if you mess up, anyway._

"In the thick of a teeming snowfall, I saw my shadow on the snow. I turned and looked back up at the sky, where we still look to ask the why of everything below."

_So far, so good._

"If I shed such a darkness, if the reason was in me, that shadow of mine should show in form against the shapeless shadow of storm…how swarthy I must be."

I briefly wondered if he was picturing it in his mind, seeing himself as such a shadow, missing the real beauty around him and the promise he had to offer.

"I turned and looked back upward," I continued, sliding my hand through Edward's hair again. "The whole sky was blue; and the thick flakes floating at a pause were but frost knots on an airy gauze, with the sun shining through."

_And, you're done. Breathe._

I let out my breath, feeling almost as jittery as I had back at school. Edward made a faint sound and I delicately rubbed his back, hoping that I hadn't just bored him _out _of sleepiness, if that was possible. "I know, nostalgic, right?" I asked in a low voice.

But he didn't answer. His breath was steadier, even fuller than it had been a minute ago.

He was asleep.

_Well, holy shit. You did it._

Deeply, but quietly, I sighed and let myself lean back into the downy cushions. I closed my own eyes for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of calm. The sound of the firewood crackling and sparking was calming, and in the distance, I could hear faint remnants of chatter and laughter from the ongoing picnic, outside. When I opened my eyes, I could see flecks of dust dancing in the beams of sunlight that came in through the windows, up among the wooden rafters on the ceiling. The walls were polished and golden, very much like the walls of Edward's bedroom, and the cracks and pleats that covered the wood were quaintly charming. From top to bottom, this place really was lovely.

Not to mention the sight directly in front of me. Edward's back undulated slowly from the pressure of his breathing, and something about the way his hand was curled around the silky fabric of the pillow made me smile. I would have let him lie across my lap for hours - days, even. As long as he was comfortable and getting some much-needed sleep, I would have gladly barricaded us from the rest of the lodge, caution tape and all.

I smiled, envisioning Doris shushing the people who walked by as she ushered them through the lobby. "I am completely insane," I muttered under my breath.

"You got _that_ right," came a snubbing voice from behind me. I was careful not to jostle Edward as I turned to see Jessica standing at the edge of the hallway that led to the dining room, practically sneering at me. _Perfect. _"Why aren't you outside with the others? Babysitting?"

_Jealous little whore-tart._

"I was outside for awhile, actually," I said honestly, turning my head away from her. "Why aren't you?" I hardly cared, but maybe her skank ass would take a hint and go away before I got creative with where to stick the fire poker. At least she hadn't been around for my little poetry reading.

"As if I would, like, bother with _senior social hour_," she said, walking around the couch to face me, swinging a bucket of cleaning supplies. She gave a slight glance to Edward before raising her glaring eyes to mine. "So, do you always bore people into unconsciousness like this?"

I bit my tongue. _Oh, Stanley has a first name, it's B-I-T-C-H._

"Honestly, Bella, if you can't see that he only hangs out with you because he feels sorry for you," she said in a purposely loud voice, setting the bucket by her feet, "then that's just _sad_."

Edward took a small, audible breath and hunched his shoulders a bit.

"Keep your voice down," I hissed sternly, fighting the urge to throw my shoe at her. "You're going to wake him up."

Jessica snickered. "I'm sure he'd be more than willing to get up. He could use a little more fun in his life with someone who _actually _knows how to treat a guy like him."

_And Stanley has a second name, it's P-R-I-S-S._

"Then again, I suppose he _should _be tired," she continued, giving Edward a thoughtful look. "I did give him _quite _a work-out last night."

_Waaa-hoa. What?_

I creased my eyebrows. "Oh, you're kidding me," I muttered under my breath, chuckling. Was she really going to stand there and play 'pretend fantasies' right in front of me?

"Oh, didn't he tell you?" she said, cocking her head to the side and smacking her sour lips. "Well, he _is _a gentleman… I guess he doesn't kiss and tell, among _other _things."

_Is she _serious_?_

"You don't actually think I'm going to believe you, do you?" I said, keeping my voice low, but unable to keep from giving her a look of disgusted bewilderment.

Jessica sighed and leaned her hips against the edge of the opposite sofa. "Oh, honey," she said with a carefree air, "you can talk yourself out of the idea all you like. But, _damn_, do magical things happen on that fourth floor…"

"Oh, _do _they?" I couldn't help but blurt out, my volume higher than I meant for it to be. "Did Lauren and Mike tell you from experience?"

_Oh, shit. No, you did _not _just let that slip._

Edward shifted again on my lap, exhaling tacitly as he settled back into a comfortable position. I watched him vigilantly, only looking back at Jessica when I was sure that he was still sleeping.

"Mike, my ex-boyfriend? _That_ Mike?" she asked, squinting at me with vicious eyes.

I kept my mouth shut, feeling my cheeks go red. _Her ex-boyfriend_. Well, it made sense, l guessed. I vaguely remembered Mike's gruff voice telling Lauren not to tell Jessica.

"You're _trying_ to piss me off, aren't you, you little liar?" she said, keeping her voice at an even, low volume, probably deciding that Edward would be less than thrilled to see her claws coming out if he did accidentally wake. "Just because you want what I want? What I can have, that you _can't?_"

What a fucking hypocrite. She was shoving something completely false in my direction, so that I would do what? Run away from both of them? Cry? Stomp my feet and throw a hissy fit?

"You are so embittered, it's sickening," I whispered, not able to even fit a speck of condescension into my voice. It was just _true._

She scoffed, apathetic to my comment. "Check his neck," she said, pointing. "There's a mark there that should give you a good mental picture of exactly _how _close we were last night."

_Don't do it. Don't give her the satisfaction. _But... why would she lie about something that I _could _see? Some kind of overwhelming temptation took over my eyes, then, because before I could make a comeback, I was staring down at Edward. I glanced at his neck, but didn't see anything. I even leaned over a bit, but still-nothing. I looked back up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Hmm," she said, pursing her lips smugly. "Must be on the other side. I couldn't really be sure where I left marks, actually - it all happened so fast, you know." With that, she picked up the bucket and walked across the sitting area to the front of the lodge. She tossed her hair and gave me a smirk. "See you, Bella. Tell Edward I said thanks for last night."

_And syphilis will find a way to J-E-S-S-I-C-A._

Luckily, she was out of my sight before I could reach for anything to throw at her - and damn it, I might have this time, too. I sighed, lightly rubbing Edward's back and trying to rid my thoughts of anything that had come from her manipulative, obnoxious mouth. But my stomach was uneasily churning, making me angry with myself for letting her get to me, for being unable to silence the little voice that told me there could be some truth to it. I reached for _The Shining_ and picked up where I left off, hoping to distract myself.

Over the next half hour, a few guests came in and out, walking through the lobby with curious glances. Even one of the ladies who had tried to fix me up with her son raised her eyebrows with a pointed stare. I almost woke Edward, unsure if he would feel uncomfortable later, knowing that anyone saw him asleep on my lap. Yet, at that point, I couldn't really bring myself to care. Tom, the chef, was the only one who looked at us with a smile and a wave. He seemed easygoing and unsurprised; Angela must have been chatting us up. I smirked, wondering what she was up to at the moment. Maybe she was with _Ben_.

More time passed, and as the hour drew closer to six o'clock, Edward started to stir a bit. I leaned over him, checking his face for any sign of agitation. He sighed faintly in his sleep, seeming calm, so I took that as a good sign.

"Edward?" I murmured, gently rubbing his arm. He slowly slid out of sleep, blinking dazedly, and then suddenly shot up and off my lap, his head knocking into my mouth. I felt one of my teeth slice into my bottom lip and the immediate taste of coppery blood sent my stomach into chaos.

_Ow. Ew. Ew, don't gag. Just stay calm._

I put my hand to my mouth, letting the slightest whimper escape, and looked at Edward. He seemed as though he'd forgotten where he was at the moment, because he glanced around, breathing heavily, before his eyes drifted back to me.

"Oh, my God," he said, his eyes widening as he reached out to grasp my hand that was covering my mouth. "Are you okay? I'm sorry."

I tried to laugh. "Doesn't it strike you funny that that's all we ever say to each other?"

"Let me see," he said, pulling down my hand and lightly trailing his thumb under my lip. I froze, as the sassy girl inside of me screamed in excitement. "You're bleeding," he said miserably, looking apologetic.

"Are you surprised?" I joked, grinning despite the blood - one, to decrease his concern, and two, he was gazing at me with his brilliant eyes and brushing his finger over my lips. If I hadn't been bleeding, I might have been unable to fight to urge to lean in and see what he would do.

Edward stood up to retrieve a tissue out of the box on Doris's desk. He came back and sat down, gently pressing the tissue to my lip. "I'm so sorry," he said again, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I was just startled, I suppose. I didn't mean…"

He trailed off, creasing his eyebrows. And I knew why: the smile had melted off my face, replaced by what probably looked like a blank expression. Possibly disbelief. Maybe horrification. Because, a few centimeters below his earlobe, on the right side of his neck, was a very small, very subtle, yet very identifiable, light reddish-purple _hickey_.

I took the tissue from him and stared straight ahead, wondering how I had missed it earlier. It _was _pretty inconspicuous, but right then, it was as if it was radiating neon pink. _Jessica hadn't lied._

"Bella?" Edward asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I just nodded, a bit stunned. Something was nagging at me that it wasn't _quite _what it seemed, but unless he'd suction-cupped his own neck, I didn't understand how else it could have gotten there. The feelings that crept over me were like bad chills, as if the temperature was slowly decreasing, making my hair stand up on end. Very unwelcome images of Jessica's lips on him and his arms wrapped around _her _made me forget about the blood in my mouth entirely, sending a whole different kind of nausea through me.

"Are you sure you're all-"

"I'm just going to go clean up," I said, standing quickly. I grabbed _The Shining_ and headed for the stairs, feeling my goddamned cheeks heat again.

_Maybe you should ask before jumping to conclusions. Maybe Jessica just saw the mark and made up her own little fantasy... but then that means it was someone else. Maybe you should just keep _walking_._

I wasn't even to the second floor before Edward's footsteps were right behind mine. "Hey," he said in a hushed voice, easily keeping up with me. "I really _am _sorry."

"I know," I said awkwardly, nearly missing a step as I continued to climb.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked. He was confused. _Well, clearly! You just jumped up and left him sitting there!_

"No," I answered, not looking at him. "You know, me… blood…" _Leech marks. _"I got nauseous."

"Oh," he said quietly, sliding his hand across my shoulder blades. "Do you think you might get sick?"

_Mentally, I already was, thanks. _"I don't know," I answered, quickening my pace. "I just want to rinse my mouth." _And wipe the images of you and Jessica out of my imagination. _Although, I would probably need a few shots of Tequila to accomplish that.

When we reached our floor, I stopped at my door, hastily digging my room key out of my pocket. Edward watched me cautiously, as though I might suddenly projectile vomit. "Bella?" he said, placing his hand over mine, keeping me from unlocking my door. "I said something, didn't I? When I was asleep?"

I made the mistake of looking at him for a split second. That little blotch seemed to be screaming at me now. Seriously, how had I _not _seen that thing on his neck before? I swiftly tore my gaze away and shook my head, though I could tell he thought I was lying. I knew I had a horrible look on my face; I just couldn't seem to reign in my 'Everything's peachy!' mask.

"I must have," he attested quietly, letting his hand fall away from mine as I unbolted my door. "You won't look at me."

_Crap._

"Edward, you really didn't," I said, pulling my door open and going inside my room. I purposely left the door open, hoping it would convince him that I wasn't lying and running away from him. Thankfully, he followed me inside, though timidly. I could tell he was raking through his thoughts for what could be bothering me, other than my claim of feeling sick. "I just … need a minute."

I promptly shut myself inside the bathroom, leaving Edward looking concerned, but more confused than anything. After turning on the sink's faucet, I sat down on the edge of the tub, sighing quietly.

_Jesus, could you be anymore babyish about this? Even 'What happened to your neck? Fall and land on a skankwhore?' would have been a better reaction!_

I tightened my arms around my waist. It wasn't as if he was my boyfriend, after all. I had no right to care _who _he kissed. Sure, he let me in on his feelings for me, but that was this morning. Yesterday couldn't have been very pleasant for him, so maybe he'd wanted something to take his mind off of things. I hadn't exactly stuck around to try to talk to him, after all. But I couldn't help pouting juvenilely, wishing that, if anything, _I _had been the one on the other end of that _distraction_.

_You're hopeless. Wash your damn mouth out already._

I stood up and looked in the mirror. The cut was nothing major; my lip had just split a little and was barely bleeding anymore. I rinsed my mouth and dabbed at the little, swollen spot until the blood was gone.

Then, a knock at the door startled me. "Bella?" came Edward's voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I answered dimly, wondering how I was going to explain my sudden mood change with dignity. I supposed I should just be honest with him.

'_Sorry, Edward. Just got a little jealous that Jessica Stanley marked her territory on your throat.'_

I sighed, reaching for the soap. "Just washing my hands," I said, looking around for something else to do to stall. I wondered if he would believe me if I said I had to pluck my eyebrows or give myself a pedicure…

Eventually, I cracked the bathroom door and pushed it open slightly, seeing Edward's tall form leaning against the wall outside. "I'll be out in a second," I said, fiddling with the hem of my sweater. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Okay," he said, stepping away from the wall. I heard his footsteps move across my room, the wood creaking ever so slightly. I blew out my breath and stepped back to the sink to glance in the mirror one more time.

Honestly, I looked like I had been in some sort of fight. The bruise above my eyebrow was gone, but a small scab remained in its place; the bruise on my cheek from my accident had faded slightly, but the contusion on my head was still disgustingly dark. And now my lip - all I was needed was a missing tooth and a cast on my arm, and I would have been ready for Halloween. Too bad it was still weeks away.

I slowly opened the bathroom door, lingering in the entry with my eyes glued to the floor. _Seriously, how do you bring this up? Just come straight out with it? Beat around the bush? Bet him that you could give him a bigger one?_

"Who's Brandon?"

_What? _I whipped my head up to find Edward inspecting the crumpled napkin that I'd left sitting on the desk. _Crap._

"Oh," I said, for some reason feeling as though I'd just gotten caught with condoms. I cleared my throat, trying to sound indifferent. "Just some guy from the bar last night. I was there with Angela and Ben. He started talking to me and wrote out his number. It's nothing."

Edward nodded, setting the napkin back on the desk. He traced his fingers along the edge of the chair and looked at me with curious eyes. "… Did you give him yours?"

I could have been childish about it, playing into it with enthusiasm just to feel better about whatever happened with him and Jessica, but I wasn't a teenager anymore. There was no sense in embellishing the story, and lying wouldn't lead to anything good, either. I walked out of the bathroom and twisted my fingers into my hair. "I … I did, but I'd had a few drinks. I wasn't really thinking about-"

He looked away, already figuring the answer, and shrugged his shoulders. "It's not that important. I was just wondering."

"I didn't do it because I liked him," I said honestly. "I was just…" I was frustrated because it hadn't been _Edward _asking for my number, truthfully.

"It's not like I care, Bella," he said quickly, still keeping his eyes on the desktop.

"Well... you asked." As the seconds passed, I studied him, analyzing his expression, and then almost laughed. Surely, _he _couldn't be the resentful one? _This is too good. _"Are you - are you _jealous_?" I asked, incredulous.

"No," he said, scoffing and shooting me a quick glance. _Liar_. His emerald eye color was sufficiently mirroring his feelings. And though he was trying to hide it, he was annoyed with me. Then, shockingly, as he gripped the edge of the chair, he said, "Okay, that's not true. I am. I didn't expect … _that_."

My mouth parted in surprise. _Wow… honesty. _"Is that really fair?" I asked before I could stop myself. "After kissing Jessica Stanley, the last thing I'd expect _you _to be is bitter about some random guy having my phone number."

Edward looked appalled. "How do you know about that?"

_So, it _is_ true. Ouch_.

"Well, her lips are loose in more ways than one," I said, frowning as I ran my hands through my hair. "I'd be a little worried about oral herpes if I were you."

Edward rubbed his eyes, clearly thrown a step back. "_She_ told you?"

"Oh, really, Edward, like Jessica would ever keep something like that to herself," I said disdainfully. "She said it was no _wonder_ you were tired after the night you had with her."

He scoffed, shaking his head in apparent irritation. "And you believed her?"

I paid close attention to my fingernails as I sat on my bed. "Well, it's none of my business what kind of _extramural_ activities you participate in. But, obviously, you aren't denying kissing her. And the way she put it, you guys were half a step away from defiling _this_ half of the hallway."

Edward frowned. "Bella, that's ridiculous."

"You have a hickey on your neck," I stated plainly.

His expression transformed into utter incomprehension and he put his hand to his neck, feeling his skin. "What?"

"The other side," I muttered, filing my chipped thumbnail with the other.

He disappeared into my bathroom and I almost snorted when I heard him utter, "That little shrew." He walked out, rubbing his neck - either that, or hiding the mark from me as if it might make me forget. "It's not difficult to explain, but I don't want to have to plead with you to believe me. Do you trust me?"

I glanced up, unable to stop fidgeting. "Yes, I do." _Even though I can see in your eyes that you still think I shouldn't._

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Jessica kept following me around yesterday, and in the evening, for some reason unbeknownst to me, she took my simple, 'Goodnight, Jessica' as an invitation to launch herself at me."

I stared at him, and though I tried not to laugh, I couldn't stifle it completely.

"My thoughts exactly," he said, sitting down next to me. "I tried to be as polite as I could, but it took all the strength I had not to shove her away and drown myself in mouthwash."

Cool relief was spreading through me, as if soothing a painful burn. I felt like _such _a little, bratty moron.

"I can't believe she actually _told_ you that we - what an absolute lie," he muttered, shaking his head. "I had to pry her off of me. Apparently, she managed to do some physical damage before I _removed _her." He rubbed his neck again, looking embarrassed.

I bit my lip, cracking a small smile, though feeling a bit sympathetic. I couldn't help but wonder how strange it must be to have so much unwanted attention, especially when people were bold enough to grab you and latch themselves onto your neck. Not that he and I had been under the same circumstances, but I'd had my own experience of having someone cross the line, and no matter how minor the situation, it still felt like some kind of bawdy ambush.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, pulling at my sleeves. "I should have known better than to think you would've … I don't know. I mean, I know that you were upset yesterday... I guess I just thought you might have needed a stress reliever."

His honeyed laughter flowed throughout the room. "Really, Bella? _Jessica Stanley_?"

The sound of his laugh was infectious, and I giggled along, shaking my head. "I suppose no one deserves _that_ accusation. The whole time, I was thinking how you could do so much better than her." He grinned, but after a few seconds, I could see that a few small pieces of his smile were forced, and he, both physically and emotionally, started to wilt again, like a feeble flower deprived of the sun. Had I offended him? "What did I say?" I asked, backtracking.

"You didn't say anything," he said, and sure enough, his sparkling eyes suddenly exuded an affecting melancholy.

I reached over and took a hold of his hands, squeezing them gently, hoping to transfer a bit of solace into him. "Stop that," I said, wishing that he would suddenly wink and tell me that he was joking. He didn't. "What's the matter?"

"I just - when you say it out loud like that…" he said, looking at his lap. "I can't seem to…"

I briefly closed my eyes with a sigh, knowing exactly what he was thinking, then, and it made my heart feel as though it gained an extra ten pounds.

"I see," I said, letting go of his hands. "This is the part when you tell me that you're not good enough for anyone - even Jessica. And then I'll come back with something like, 'Edward, why do you put yourself down so horribly?' And then you counter with some sort of evasive answer that makes no sense and you don't care to explain. Am I right so far?"

Edward stood up and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm not trying to upset you."

"Maybe you don't mean to, but it's terrible to watch you slip below the surface like that," I said, standing as well. "Not to go all metaphorical, but if you were drowning in real life, and you couldn't get to the life preservers that I was throwing, I'd be diving in to save you."

He looked thoughtful, but still took a step back. "That's sweet of you. But there's no reason to waste your life or your time like that."

"God, that's such _bullshit_," I cried, not even caring that I had cursed in front of him. I'd heard more than enough self-belittlement out of his mouth. "I really don't understand why you don't give a damn about yourself, but if you plan on sticking around, you're going to have to get used to it. Because I _do _care."

Every thought that was pouring out from his troubled, breathtaking eyes asked the same question: _why? _"This is exactly why I _shouldn't _be sticking around," he muttered, before grabbing the doorknob, ready to run again.

_Oh, like I'm _not_ going to follow your Lucky-Charmed ass!_

"I'm doing nothing but frustrating you," he continued as I followed him into the hall.

"Well, yeah, in between your moments of taking my breath away and lighting up the room when you actually _do _smile, you frustrate the hell out of me." I reached out to grab his hand and stopped him in his tracks. "I hate it, Edward. I hate the way you put yourself down as though you deserve nothing more than to be treated like some kind of monster."

He put his free hand over his eyes and squeezed at his temples before looking back up. "I do, though," he murmured. "You don't know the half of it."

"Say that all you want, but it's not as if you're some kind of predator who goes off plotting peoples' demises," I said adamantly, tightening my grip on his hand with both of my own. I sighed, deciding that I was going to have to start digging at the sore spots. "And I'm sure it _was_ hard on you, staying in Chicago after-"

He interrupted me with a mocking, dark laugh and pulled away. "Coincidentally," he muttered, "you have no idea how cold-blooded I really am. And as for-"

'"I'm not finished," I said firmly, not allowing him to throw me off track. "Like I was saying, I'm sure it was hard staying at home after all that happened. And even if your parents aren't giving you the support you-"

"My parents?" he interjected, twisting his face into a scowl, and I could see that he was biting the inside of his lip as he took a sharp inhale. He didn't want to hear it. "Bella, you're so confused…"

"_Am _I?" Breathing steadily, refusing to waver, I continued. "I'm not going to pretend like I can even fathom what you're feeling, but there's no reason - no _fair _reason - why you let yourself sink into this black _hole _you carry, and go so far as to label yourself a murderer. We both know that's not true."

He shook his head temperately. "Like I said, you have no idea."

I waited and jerked my head with my eyebrows raised. ""Well, then _what_, Edward? What don't I understand? Spit it out!"

I could tell by the way he was rubbing at his forehead that I was doing nothing but making him feel worse, but he was right. I _was_ confused. What would make him think such a thing? Or… wait. _Light bulb._

"God … is that what they _told_ you?" I asked, taking a few steps toward him, my heart sinking at the very thought. "Is that what people called you? Did your neighbors - did your _parents_-"

He snapped his head up and stared hard into my eyes; for once, I didn't swoon on my feet. The expression on his face scared me.

"My parents are _dead_, Bella."

My mouth opened in a shocked drop. Involuntarily, my fingers curled and gripped at the bottom of my sweater like fleshy hooks, digging into the fabric, and I could feel my fingernails bend from the pressure. Edward continued to bore holes through me, his expression so incomprehensibly angry and dark that I wanted to shrink down to the floor.

"You... you killed them, too?" I nearly whispered.

For a brief second, his expression froze and his eyes seemed to go completely blank. Then, an upsurge of shock and horrified grief spilled over his face, removing all traces of anger and loathing. He looked as though I'd just taken a jagged spear and plunged it through his heart and was now watching him bleed to death with a smile on my face. My mental light bulb dimmed and fizzled out as I realized that I had never, in my life, been so cataclysmically mistaken.

I reflexively clasped my hand over my lips, feeling mind-boggled. He called himself a monster; he thought of himself a _murderer_. Not someone who had an accident, not a person who made an unfortunate misstep. He defined himself as _cold-blooded_. What did that _mean_, then? Clearly, not what I'd just uttered - the words had tumbled out of my mouth before I had given it rational thought. As I stood, frozen to the spot, he eventually turned his head and narrowed his eyes to the open space beyond the balcony. I stood, starting to tremble slightly, unsure of what to do or say next.

_Apologize. Go to your room. Run. Trip on purpose and hopefully knock yourself out again so you can forget this._

I wet my top and bottom lip, anxiously sucking them as I waited. The silence was quite deafening, and by accident, I sucked my lip too hard and made a loud, squelching noise. It seemed to shake Edward out of his elongated stare into space, and he looked at me, finally, appearing resigned. His eyes were bright with... _tears_?

_Jesus. You made him cry._

He closed his eyes for a moment, before saying a straightforward, quiet, "No."

Before I could respond, he turned and pushed his door open, only to shut himself inside so fast, that I didn't even have time to blink.

I stood in shock, frozen to the floor. _What did you just _do_? Fix it!_

I had to plead with my feet to actually move me to the front of his door. My heart started to pound as soon as I raised my hand to knock, feeling as though I was already losing my breath. I gave three soft knocks and tensed immediately, not knowing if he was going to throw open the door and tell me to stay the fuck away from him. "Edward?" I said tentatively, somehow managing not to sound squeaky.

Of course, there was no answer. I really didn't expect it to be as simple as that. I knocked again, a little harder this time. "Edward, please. I…"

_Are you _really _going to apologize through the _wall_?_

"Will you please open the door?" I asked weakly, feeling bubbles of guilt and shame escalate in my chest.

I waited. I listened. I hoped.

Nothing.

I tasted blood as I sucked my bottom lip again; I'd reopened the cut. _How ironic_. _What else is new?_

I leaned against the wall right next to his door, breathing through the tears that were stubbornly rising, albeit slowly. Placing my hand against the doorframe, I gently stroked the aged wood. "I'm sorry," I said softly, knowing that, in this case, those two words were not enough.

And that did it. Tears spilled over my eyelids and I barely contained a whimper before rushing back to my own room. After I locked myself inside, I went into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and looked up at the ceiling. There was a small air vent in the corner of the room, right by the shower. I couldn't be in the bedroom - the walls were obviously not thick enough to hide anything - sometimes, not even breathing. I moved to the opposite end of the bathroom and sat in the one place that was furthest from the vent: the bathtub.

I sat, surrounded by the white, glazed porcelain, and bent my knees, pressing my face into the towel. This time, I was going to cry quietly.

-:-

_One thousand, three-hundred and twenty-seven._

I rolled over in bed, grunting a bit as I pressed my cheek against a different pillow.

_One thousand, three-hundred and twenty-eight._

I breathed in, trying, yet again, to get the lemony scent to intoxicate me.

_One thousand, three-hundred and twenty-nine._

"Fucking sheep," I muttered, rolling onto my back again.

I'd resorted to counting sheep after counting to forty-three - the number of times the wind made the window pane rattle. I'd resorted to counting the noises the window made after I'd counted to five-hundred and seventy one - the amount of breaths it took to feel relaxed. And I'd counted my breaths after dragging myself to bed after a long, hot, tear-free shower.

Earlier, crying hadn't gotten me even close to feeling better. I was still guilt-ridden and confused; the strain of it all had left me with a headache, and worse, I'd gotten black mascara and blood from my lip on Doris's pretty, white, fluffy towel. I'd stuffed it in my laundry bag, thinking that I could bleach it myself at the Laundromat, whenever I got around to washing my clothes.

The rest of the day had progressed sluggishly - or at least _I_ did. Angela was kind enough to pick me up after I called her, miserably indicating that I needed some comfort - and that meant a cheeseburger and peanut butter cup ice cream. We sat at the diner for hours as she patiently listened to me whine; although, I hadn't really told her anything that she could give me advice on, anyway. I kept everything that Edward told me in confidence, but I did tell her that I had done something horrible - at least, I'd _said _something horrible.

"He'll come around, Bella," she said, taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. "Especially since he told you he has feelings for you. And I believe it. I saw the way he looked at you, after all."

"He's not going to speak to me, I know it," I said, digging my spoon into my ice cream. "It's unforgivable."

"Are you sure you can't tell me what you said?" she asked, her brown eyes wide with concern. "I mean, it couldn't have been that bad. Did you insult him? Accuse him of stealing? Of sleeping with Lauren?"

I snorted. "I think he knows better than to get involved with _that_. After... well, you know." I pinched my fingers together like little crab claws.

Angela laughed. "Actually, if you'd like an update, Tyler found Lauren's prescription bottle. Apparently, he was at Mike's and noticed the same medication, then pieced it all together after he found out what it was for. He confronted her, then broke up with her this afternoon."

"Wow," I said, taking a bite of the peanut butter goodness. "I'm glad. I mean, for Tyler. He didn't deserve being lied to."

Angela nodded. "He'll be okay. At least he got away before he could catch _it_, too." She clapped her hands together twice, then wiggled her eyebrows in amusement.

I stared at her for a moment, confused. _Oh! _"They have the _clap_?" I exclaimed, much louder than I had intended. Half the diner turned around to stare at us, and we both dissolved into giggles.

If anything, Angela had been the reason why I hadn't gone to bed in tears. I almost wished I had been girly enough to ask her to sleep over, or something. Maybe then I could have concentrated on her company instead of lying in bed, wondering about a certain someone on the other side of the wall. And now that I was done distracting myself with counting, I was thinking about him again. I couldn't stop replaying his words over and over.

'_My parents are dead, Bella.'_

He was right. I had been completely mixed up about the whole situation. Thinking back, I'd asked him, _'Was it your parents? Did they not support you?'_ His answer was no… so, did that mean they had died _before _everything else had happened? As in it wasn't about them, and _no, _they didn't support him because they were no longer there? Or did they die afterwards, in some sort of tragic accident?

The very thought made me sick. I didn't understand until _now _how alone he really was.

Before I'd resigned to soaking myself in the shower, I had an overwhelming desire to call Charlie and Renée. It felt morbid, but I just wanted to hear their voices in case I somehow never had another chance. Barely keeping my composure, I asked them for every detail of their day, brought up old memories, and told them both that I loved them before hanging up. I'm sure they were shell-shocked and probably grew even more concerned about me, thinking that I'd suffered some sort of brain damage from getting hit by a car.

Simply imagining that I didn't have either one of _my _parents for even a moment made my stomach churn violently. I forced myself to stop thinking about it, knowing that unwelcome tears would inevitably creep up on me if I continued. But there wasn't much else to distract me. I rolled over and checked my battered phone for the umpteenth time.

One-thirteen AM. _Damn it_. I was going to be a wreck when I woke up… if I even fell asleep first.

I couldn't think of anything else to count, so I finally sat up and turned on the lamp, deciding to read. I pulled _The Shining _off my night table and into bed with me, continuing where I'd left off. I was right in the middle of freaking out over the hedge animals that were completely mind-fucking with the little boy, when I heard a quiet thump.

Instantly, I squealed and almost tossed the book in the air, half expecting some sort of topiary creature to attack me from the side. It took me a few moments to realize exactly _what _it could have been. I waited with trepidation, hoping that it was just my imagination, or the wood creaking from the temperature change.

A minute passed and just as started to relax, I heard him: _Edward_. He was moaning.

_No. _I closed my eyes, pulling a pillow to my chest, speaking silently to any spiritual being that might be listening. _Please, just let him sleep. He needs it._

If there was some sort of divine power that heard, it chose to ignore me, because the pounding thump on the wall that followed resonated throughout my room. I was unsure of what I could possibly do - it wasn't like I could go pound on the door and wake him up. Or could I? _Should I?_

I deliberated for too long. Before I could move, I heard him gasp and another small thud sounded. Feeling ever-intrusive, I listened as he struggled to compose himself; he was panting harshly and my heart dropped as a muffled, choked cry came from the other side of the dividing wall.

I reflexively brought my knees to my chest, squeezing them tightly, feeling frozen. After another few moments, there was no more noise. I narrowed my eyes, listening, but nothing came. Fear crept into my chest as I waited, hoping to hear a bed spring creak or even another breath out of him. Then, I heard creaking, but it wasn't from his bed; it was the pipes. He was in the bathroom.

My legs twitched anxiously, eager to jump out of bed and run next-door to see if he would open the door for me. I was terrified of his reaction to seeing me, but I couldn't just _sit _there. I shakily got out of bed, hating the fact that there were such barriers between us - both physical and emotional.

Precious seconds passed as I contemplated what to say. Should I apologize first? Or try to calm him down? I stood at my door, ready to knock my head against it in frustration, when I heard his door open and shut with a bang.

_Go! _

I hesitated for only a moment before slowly opening my door, expecting to see him flying down the stairs at the speed of a bullet. But, I didn't. As I stepped out into the hallway and turned, I saw something very different. He was standing, shaking, and turbulently gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands, as though it was his only means of balance. His bronze hair looked brown as it stuck to his head, sticky with sweat, as was his shirt, and his breath was hitching in his heaving chest; he was panicked.

Then, with a quick turn of his head, he spotted me, and his whole body jerked away from the wooden rod he was clutching. I'd scared him. I moved toward him, opening my mouth to speak, but he backed away, ceasing his breathing entirely. He stared at me, scrutinizing me from head to toe.

"It's just me," I said in a near whisper, slightly raising my hands in submission.

It took him a few seconds to react, but he eventually exhaled forcefully and leaned back onto the railing, sliding his hands over his face and up into his hair. I grasped my nightshirt between my fingers, anxious to calm myself so that I might be able to calm _him_. That is, if he was even ready to speak to me.

"Edward?" I asked tentatively. I watched in concern as he pressed his hand to his mouth, swallowing convulsively, and then shockingly, he bit his own palm as he sucked in a lungful of air. I took a few more steps, but he shot out his arm to stop me.

"Don't," he gasped, turning away and viciously rubbing his eyes, as if trying to rid himself of a dreadful apparition. He felt for the railing again, half-blinded by his hand, and ended up backing into a pillar. He was too close to the stairwell for my comfort; if he took a few more steps back and stumbled even the slightest bit, he would fall. And though I was aware he had better coordination than I did, in his current condition, I wasn't sure if he could even walk straight.

"Edward, please," I said helplessly, knowing that there wasn't an adequate apology for what I had said earlier. "Just … come here, you're too close-"

"I can't breathe," he said in between harsh intakes of air, walking further toward the stairs. Just as I was certain he was going to plummet down to the third floor, he gripped the banister and started rushing down the steps. "Don't follow me," he managed to snap before disappearing around the corner, out of sight.

I curled my fingers in my hair, feeling desperately incompetent. His panic had rubbed off on me and I felt my heart begin to pound. What could I _do_? There was no way I could meander back to my room and say 'Oh, well,' and continue sleeping. No matter how upset or angry he was, he _had_ to know that. The ache in my chest was back; his pain was officially my pain. The only thing that could bring me any kind of peace was to follow him - instruction be damned.

Taking a deep breath and willing my legs to stop shaking, I quickly pursued him. When I reached the lobby, I looked around wildly, unsure of where he could have gone. Everything was predictably dark, except for the café, which was empty anyway. I was almost certain he hadn't taken off in his Volvo, unless he carried his car keys in the pants he slept in. Yet, if he did, that wouldn't exactly surprise me. Even so, I rushed to the door, figuring if I didn't see him outside, I'd stalk the first floor until I found him.

My bare skin acted as a pathetic shield against the frigid specks of drizzling rain as it seemed to pass right through to my insides, stiffening my muscles and stinging my heart. But the cold pain was trivial compared to the anxiety that was building up in my chest.

_His car. Check._

I scrambled over to the silver car, half expecting it to suddenly light up, come to life, and speed away without warning. But the driver's seat was empty, as was the parking lot. Even with the patchy clouds, moonlight had managed to filter through, giving only a secluded amount of light; it was enough to see that the wide space was entirely vacant. I turned away from the group of cars and looked toward the hill, which led to a cluster of trees and bushes - the front entrance to the woods.

_He wouldn't have… would he?_

The sound of someone coughing caused me to jump, startled. _Edward_. I squinted in the darkness, looking toward the opposite end of the lot. I couldn't see anything, so I followed along the stone wall until I had turned the corner. Then, I saw him.

He was slouched against the wall, twisting his t-shirt with his other hand and coughing again as he became wretchedly ill. I fought the crushing urge to run to him and hold him, just to do _anything_, but I knew he would probably shake me off, yell, and stomp away as soon as he could stand up straight. So I stood by, pressing my hand against my mouth, trying not to cry out to him. When he finally straightened, he pressed his back against the wall, panting heavily. His eyes narrowed when he saw my silhouette in the grass and slowly turned to look at me.

As his eyes met mine, I involuntarily stepped back and braced myself for Hurricane Edward. _Here comes the yelling. Here comes the "Leave me alone, you heartless bitch!" Here comes the stare of hatred. Here comes the -_

"Bella," he choked, his voice awash with grief.

A cold chill pierced my body, and it wasn't from the freezing air. I swallowed, feeling almost dizzy at the sight of him holding himself up against the wall, nearly ready to collapse in misery and pain - just utter despair. I darted to his side as I watched him start to slide, and as I reached him, he didn't push me away or shoot me a glare to scare me off. He didn't even pull away or protest. Instead, he grabbed onto my arms and put his head on my shoulder, sucking in his breath and gasping as though he was being stabbed.

Instinctively, I flung my arms around his neck, gripping him in a fierce, protective grasp. "Edward," I managed to say, "what's wro-?"

But before I could finish, a deep, strangled cry ripped from his mouth, stunning me silent. My knees suddenly buckled, both from the shock and his weight, and I pulled him down with me, knocking myself hard against the side of the stone wall as I sat on the damp ground. Edward collapsed onto my side, and I held him tight, keeping my arms around his back. He made a move to push himself up, but I resisted.

"Don't," I said quietly. "I've got you."

I felt his chest hitch once before he tightened his arms around me and sobbed, his body trembling madly against my chest. My own eyes stung with tears, having never heard such a heartbreaking sound that I could recall. I kept one arm securely around his back, and my other hand gently held his head, smoothing his hair.

"Shh," I said, tilting my head down to rest my cheek against his forehead.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that everything was okay, because it wasn't. Words failed. The frigid temperature around us was suddenly nonexistent. The persistent pounding of my heart was ignored. All I could unambiguously grasp was the feel of Edward in my arms: shattered, heartsick, and oppressed.

In that moment, I was too.

Each minute that elapsed was excruciating. He wasn't just crying; he was struggling to breathe evenly, taking in sharp, shuddering breaths that never seemed to be enough to calm him. Quiet, yet agonizing moans escaped him, as if he was seeing something horrific that he couldn't ignore. And I was at a complete loss of what to do.

I finally leaned over and kissed his forehead, his soft, wet hair brushing against my cheek so gently, it could have been a breeze. "Edward," I whispered, rubbing my hand up and down his back. "_Please _don't cry."

He took a short breath, nearly choking on his almost silent cries - trying to stop, I assumed - and his body shook with immense, recessed pressure. I didn't want him to hold it back, but I wanted him to _breathe_. I knew he would eventually exhaust himself, but seeing him in so much pain was gutting. There had to be something else I could do, other than pleading for him to stop.

And then I remembered: _'I like the sound of your voice. It's calming.'_

For some odd reason, _A Dream Pang _was the first idea that came to my mind. I desperately racked my brain for another idea, thinking that it was almost laughable to begin reciting poetry like it was the eighteenth century. But I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. Edward had even asked to hear me speak it earlier, and it had, indeed, been effective in helping him settle down.

I took a deep breath, almost disbelieving that I was about to do this a second time. I hugged him closer and tucked my chin to his hair, hoping that this would work - though it still wasn't my favorite, I knew it well.

"I had withdrawn in forest, and my song was swallowed up in leaves that blew away," I said softly, pressing my cheek to his head again, trying not to choke up when I felt him strengthen his grasp around me. "And to the forest edge you came one day… this was my dream… and looked and pondered long, but did not enter, though the wish was strong."

As I continued speaking, I could hear him gasp less, and begin to take slower, yet uneven inhales. I resumed combing my fingers through his hair with every word, silently pleading for him to be soothed. "You shook your pensive head as who should say, 'I dare not, too far in his footsteps stray… he must seek me would he undo the wrong.' Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all, behind low boughs the trees let down outside."

As I neared to the end of the poem, he seemed to go slack against me, his muscles giving in from the exertion, though he kept his arms loosely circling my upper body.

"And the sweet pang it cost me not to call," I said, "and tell you that I saw does still abide. But…"

I stopped, my breath getting caught in my throat as I realized, without being completely literal, that the words coming from my mouth - though someone else's - described us in terms that we couldn't even speak ourselves. The dream, the longing - the _need _for completion - whether was simply to be whole, to be held, or to be loved. I sighed into his hair and managed to continue, wondering if he could even fathom what I was saying. "But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof… for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof."

I blinked rain out of my eyelashes as I finished, and peered down at Edward. He wasn't completely calm, but he had relaxed considerably; at least he was breathing somewhat evenly. He was still shaking, or maybe shivering from the rain, and I knew that sitting on the soaking, cold ground wasn't comfortable for either of us. Yet neither he nor I moved to get up.

Rubbing his arm gently, I felt a mix of his warm sweat and the cold rain wet my fingers, and I peered down as I noticed a few raised bumps on his soft skin. I squinted, just able to make out four raw, red half-moon marks embedded in his upper arm, swollen like little welts. Fingernail marks. _His _fingernail marks? Had he dug into his own skin to try to take away from the pain?

I felt hot tears start to slide down my cheeks. The thought of him suffering in silence for so long was indescribable. He shuddered and I gripped him tighter, feeling as though my arms couldn't envelope him enough. I pressed my lips to his forehead, and we sat in the rain-glazed grass, clutching each other as if our very lives depended on it - like two broken beings, desperate to be whole.

-:-

**Ugh. Were the little poetry additions completely laughable? Did it make you cry … or cringe? Or did you not care either way? *Sigh* Okay-sorry. Had to get out my insecurities. I agonized over this chapter. I sincerely hope I didn't fuck it up too badly. Please tell me if I did, or didn't. *Puts bag over head***

**Some notes: 1.) In case anyone hasn't heard it-Bella's little song she was singing in her head about Jessica is the tune of the Oscar Mayer bologna song. YouTube it if you've never heard it…I suppose it's an American thing! ;) 2.) A lot of people keep asking if the vampires are going to still be involved with the story. The answer's yes, but there's a time and a place. ;) 3.) Edward's got some issues with PTSD. He's all over the place because of it, and that should explain a lot about his past behavior. Forgive me (and him) if it seems frustrating. I'm not going to go into a bunch of elegant detail because this story is not going to revolve around it; while it is a factor, it's not going to be just about that from here on out. Just letting you know! **

**As for music, I highly recommend "All I Need" by Mat Kearney (especially if you'd like to know where I got the inspiration for this chapter's title), "Divenire" by Ludovico Einaudi, "Breathe Me" by Sia, "Broken" by Lifehouse, and a lot from the "Pan's Labyrinth" soundtrack-especially "Long, Long, Time Ago."**

**Anyway, I'd love to hear from you! Thanks ladies. xoxo**


	16. Clinging to Life

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I just borrow the characters and make them cry, apparently! I ought to be very ashamed of myself… Actually, if I'm going to be ashamed of anything, it should be my lack of updating (FRL) and the ridiculously long A/N's of mine. There's always a lot more to say as time goes by!**

**Msrebarose on Twilighted was awesome enough to show me a banner she made for this story--it made me bounce in my chair a little (okay, a lot.) :) I put a link on my profile if anyone wants to check it out. Thanks again, chick!**

**To my beta, Emilie Fauve: I heart you more than Sean Connery impressions while singing Thriller.**

**Also, much love to queenofgrey, who was kind enough to read the first part of this chapter and convinced me to step back from the metaphorical ledge and keep going--even offering to help me when my keyboard's "W" key was broken. Yes. I know. I was going to put in "v's" instead. There would have been lots of Edvards and vhats and vhys and 'Jessica Stanley is a vhore.' And as Jes puts it, vhore is not very insulting. ;)**

**I'm continually in awe over the lovely people who send me such kind messages and reviews, and this story is for all of you. I mean it. Thank you, everyone. If I haven't responded to any of you for some reason, it's only because I've been busy trying to sort through the madness known as reality. And truthfully, if I ever met any of you, I'd hug-attack you!**

-:-

As the wind and rain numbed my fingers, the warm pressure between Edward's chest and mine remained dominant; it was the only thing I concentrated on, for it was the key to this moment of pretend: that the world was able to stop for just a few minutes to let us have an ounce of peace, of warmth, in what was otherwise a cold, harsh reality.

When I was younger, it seemed so easy to fix things. Super glue put my shattered piggy bank back together. Band-aids covered scrapes, and a hug from Renée or Charlie would make them feel better. Even the promise of ice cream made a bad grade in math feel insignificant. Unfortunately, the day came when I learned that adhesives couldn't be used to consolidate people--and I couldn't find anything in which to fill the empty holes that grew inside of me; or anyone else, for that matter. In reality, broken glass can be swept up; trivial cuts heal without scars and are easily forgotten. But things such as guilt, loss, and trauma are dizzying, and they leave a kind of damage that burns through your insides, scarring parts that can't even be seen. And unlike other troubles, there's no guarantee that a solution even exists.

I gazed down at Edward, delicately brushing his dripping hair away from his eyes, which were closed. If I didn't know better, I would have wondered if he had actually fallen asleep. He'd calmed down considerably over the last few minutes--his shaking had ceased, his heart had stopped pounding wildly against my chest, and the only movement coming from him was even, quiet breathing. When I realized that he seemed to be doing better, my own heart finally started to slow, pulling me back into a more conscious state. Suddenly, I couldn't ignore the sensation of the rain or the sharp, scraping rocks digging into my back, or the fact that both of us were sitting in freezing, and probably muddy, puddles. It had been worth every second to sit with him in my arms, hopefully helping to alleviate his distress, but we couldn't sit outside all night unless we wanted to chance hypothermia. Or get eaten by bears. Or the Forks-enstein wood monster, if that was what Mr. Miller had been going on about.

I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. It wasn't as though dawn was about to break through the trees, and the clouds didn't appear ready to part and cease their incessant rainfall. I supposed it was because I wasn't sure what to say to him, not even about what had just happened. How could he even want to talk to me after hearing the words I'd thrown at him earlier with my damn mouth? I hadn't been trying to insinuate that he'd killed his parents…I thought that was what he was trying to _tell _me.

_Well, you, Bella, are inexplicably stupid._

At that moment, Edward unlocked his grasp from around me and slid one of his arms up and around the back of my neck, resting his head on my collarbone. _That _movement made me seriously consider sticking out the cold for the rest of the night. I really didn't want to let go of him; I wanted to continue to hug him fiercely and somehow transfer his pain into my own body if it would give him some relief.

_Talk to him. Preferably verbalize something not out of a literature textbook, this time. Make it good._

"Are you okay?" I finally asked, running my hand up and down his back. _Oh, yeah, _that's _brilliant._

He shifted slightly. It took him a few moments to answer, but he eventually whispered, "Yeah. I'm…"

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry," I said softly, squeezing him just a bit tighter. The last thing I wanted to hear was an apology, as if he had just done something wrong.

Except to clear his throat, he remained quiet. _That's what I thought._ "You're soaked," he said instead, and I felt him grasp a section of my hair, which was undoubtedly streaming like a running faucet.

"So are you," I replied, reaching up to run my fingers through _his _hair. He sighed lightly, and I felt his breath hit my skin, sending a chill through me that wasn't due to the temperature. Ever-so-slowly, his grip on my back grew looser and he finally sat up, separating himself from me. The cold air hit the portion of my chest that Edward had been covering and I involuntarily shivered.

"You're cold," he remarked simply, letting his hands rest on mine as he lowered his eyes to the ground. "You should go inside."

"Not without you, I won't," I said. Did he honestly think I was going to leave him out here by himself? His body tensed as the wind blew--he was cold, too. I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Will you come with me?"

"Not yet," he answered listlessly, wrapping his arms tightly across his chest.

Though it was difficult to see in the dark, his eyes seemed to have reached a whole new level of exhaustion. Maybe he was just embarrassed; or maybe he was having second thoughts about wanting me to accompany him anywhere. We sat in silence, and I let my hand fall to my lap. "I know you're mad at me," I said, plucking a slick strand of grass from the ground and folding it between my fingers, "and I'll leave you alone once we're inside if that's what you want. But I can't just leave you out here without knowing--"

"Why would I be angry with you?" he interrupted in a voice that I was barely able to hear. I gazed at his confused expression, suddenly feeling a little puzzled myself.

"Why?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows. I wasn't about to relive my previous, god-awful, hallway verbal vomit. "Why wouldn't you be?"

Edward narrowed his eyes in thought and I tore apart the little piece of grass. I knew he was shaken up, but as soon as he remembered, he was going to hate me. He'd had a weak moment, that was all. He had been panicked, and he probably would have clung to Jessica Stanley if she'd been the one to round the corner instead.

"Bella," came Edward's voice, still notably quiet, but firm. I warily peeked up at him, afraid that I would see nothing but resentment written across his face. However, I was met with remorse; I really shouldn't have been that surprised, considering it was a regular emotion that came from him, but I was. "I'm not mad at you."

_Is he not thinking clearly? _"You should be," I said, my nervous hands finding solace in twirling my wet hair. Truly, '_sorry' _was not good enough, but I needed to apologize. Cowardly, I lowered my eyes to the ground. "Edward, I'm…I'm so sorry."

I felt his hand slide underneath my chin and push upward so that I would look at him, but I diverted my eyes, avoiding his face. "Bella, no," he said earnestly.

"I didn't even mean it," I continued faintly, not allowing him to stop me. "It just came out. I thought, in some offhand way, that's what you were trying to tell me."

"Will you look at me?"

I sighed, knowing that I certainly didn't deserve to be forgiven, or even have my excuse taken into consideration, but I was a pathetic little moth drawn to an intoxicating flame, and I couldn't stop myself from obliging. I met his heartwarming eyes, still waiting for words of departure or loathing--anything that made sense.

"What else should you have been expected to think?" he said, stroking my cheek lightly. "The words I used, how my voice sounded, the way I _put_ it… I shouldn't have let it upset me the way it did."

"No, you--" I said, protesting, but he put his finger on my lips.

"As much as the selfish part of me wanted to tell you about everything, the stubborn part of me wouldn't have it," he said, tracing my bottom lip tenderly as he brushed over my cut. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his breath out. "And earlier, because of it, I finally succeeded in doing what I've been trying to ever since I met you."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, not understanding. "What's that?"

"Scare you," he answered, subtly letting his hand travel down my neck and into my hair, his eyes following his actions. I could only watch him, spellbound. "Normally, I'm good at brushing people off. And those stupid, childish warnings about staying away from me were the only pitiful attempts I allowed myself to make, because, deep down, I knew I didn't really want you to walk away and never speak to me again. And when I finally saw that fear in your eyes, momentary as it was…it hurt more than I ever anticipated."

His bleak tone sliced through me, and my mouth felt frozen as I tried to form the right words to ask for forgiveness, but he shook his head, guessing what I was attempting to say. "I was asking for it constantly. Please, don't apologize."

Now _I_ felt sick. He was letting me off the hook way too easily.

"I was being unfair. Right now, at this moment, I still am," he continued, shaking his head again and staring right above my shoulder, where his arm was resting. "You know, I was so torn about leaving; I knew what I _should_ have done, but chose what I _wanted_ to do--stay with you. It didn't take me long to screw up--only a few hours, and I lashed out at you without reason--"

"You didn't lash out at me for no reason," I objected. "I completely misconstrued the whole situation--"

"And you wouldn't have if I had just explained things calmly in the first place," Edward said, looking into my eyes at last, magnetizing my face to his. My chest ached at his distraught appearance. "I'm such a mess, Bella. I didn't want to bring you into any of this. I'm really not worth it. You have every right to be angry with _me_."

How he could reach such a conclusion was way over my head; but I knew that he was plagued by things that I didn't understand, and I wouldn't be able to fully support him without knowing the answers. I reached up and took his hand out of my hair, entwining my fingers with his. "I'm not."

Edward put his other hand around my cheek and brushed his thumb near my ear, making me shiver again. He gave a fleeting look to the sky and sighed. "You need to get out of the rain."

"So do you," I pressed, fighting the urge to tell him that _he _was making me tremble, not the weather. "We can talk upstairs…if you want to, that is."

"I won't make it upstairs," he said quietly, rubbing his eyes before glancing across the parking lot. "Would you mind if we talked in my car?"

"Um…no, that's fine. You won't _make it _upstairs?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

He brushed his hair out of his face, which was streaming water directly into his eyes. "I know. I don't make sense," said Edward, gripping the wall as he pushed himself off the ground. He held out his hand for mine. "I have a lot to explain."

His voice was laced with reluctance; I could tell he was dreading our approaching conversation. He looked so physically and emotionally spent, and I wasn't sure that he'd be able to get more than a few sentences out. Even so, I let him help me to my feet, and I winced, not realizing how numb my feet were until I actually stood on them. It was ungodly freezing. I looked down, wiggling my tingling toes, hoping to God that I wouldn't slip and accidentally face-plant onto the parking lot. As I examined the ground, another small sight--two, in fact--caught my eye, and my mouth dropped in surprise. My toes weren't the only part of me that were feeling the effects of the chill.

_Oh, by the way, Edward, I don't believe I've introduced you to my nipples._

I quickly threw my arms across my tank top and shot a look at Edward, who diverted his eyes instantly. Had he been looking? _Well, probably! They're popping out like a second pair of eyeballs! _At least my top wasn't white…although, baby blue wasn't exactly opaque.

"Do you have your keys?" I asked, keeping my arms around myself as my cheeks doubtlessly turned the color of strawberry shortcake.

"I keep a spare one underneath the passenger door," he answered, walking over to the cars.

I followed, trying to avoid stepping on the miniscule pebbles that were strewn across the rocky lot. Edward reached his Volvo, stooped down to the bottom of the passenger side, and I heard a small click as he retrieved a key from under the frame. I quickly wrung the excess water out of my hair as he unlocked the car door, thinking that I was going to completely ruin the Volvo's interior; he did have leather seats, after all. Even so, he held the door open for me without hesitation.

I climbed in silently and Edward shut the door gently before walking around to the driver's side. I sat on the front edge of the seat, causing my knees to hit the glove compartment--the home to yet another one of his mysteries. I was literally dripping all over the place. Though, when Edward got inside the car, he leaned back against his seat without care, and he was just as drenched as I was. He looked in my direction and raised his eyebrows curiously at my awkward stance.

"I…I don't want to get your car wet," I explained.

I could tell by his eyes that he probably would have laughed at me if this was a lighthearted situation; instead, he shrugged and turned on the ignition. "I don't care about my car," he said, switching on the heat and adjusting the vents so they all blew toward me. _Of course he would._ "You can sit back." He altered the temperature of the heat, then narrowed his eyes. "Actually, wait a second."

He leaned between the shadows of the seats and reached in the back of the car for something; I took that opportunity to reverse the air outlets to waft his direction again. He could be stubborn, but so could I. When he straightened up, he had a few folded squares of fabric in his hand. At first I thought he was holding small towels, but when he handed them over, I realized he had given me a shirt and what appeared to be a pair of jogging shorts.

"You can put those on--they'll be a little big, but they might help you warm up," he said quietly, fishing on the back floor to retrieve himself a dry outfit, too. "Don't worry, they're clean--I just did some laundry."

I stared at the clothes--_his _clothes--in my hands, then back at him. "You…want me to change…in here?" _In front of you? _However, that meant _he _was going to undress in front of _me_, too_._

Edward rubbed his eyes, then glanced over at me. "It might feel better than sitting in wet clothes. You don't have to, I just thought…" Then his eyes widened in slight surprise. "Bella, I'm not going to _look_--"

"Oh, I know," I said, interrupting him quickly as my cheeks burned. _You idiot. Like he really meant you both were going to have a stripping contest just because he offered you a shirt._ "I--I just meant--never mind. Thanks."

He nodded and turned his head away. "I won't turn around until you say to."

"Okay," I mumbled, giving him one last look before unfolding the t-shirt. It was big, of course, with short sleeves; it appeared to have an inscription, although it was difficult to make out in the semi-darkness. I set it on the dashboard as I proceeded to strip off my top, my heart picking up slightly at the thought of being undressed next to him. I shivered and gooseflesh rippled across my skin as the air flowing from the vents hit me--it wasn't quite warm yet, and my chest definitely had its party hats on. I briefly wondered if the thought of me changing beside him was enough to--

_For God's sake! He doesn't give a damn! He just cried his eyes out. The last thing on his mind is you _naked_!_

I shook my head, inwardly scolding myself, and reached for his shirt. I put it on slowly, the aroma of fresh laundry detergent enveloping me instantly, along with just a touch of Edward's own scent--maybe from being in his car or in his bag, if that's what it was pulled from. It was reminiscent of vanilla…but a _manly_ vanilla, if there was such a thing. I wondered if he ever wore cologne, or if that was just _him_.

_Will you focus and put on the damn shirt?_

I popped my head through the collar and pushed my arms through the sleeves, pulling the rest of the shirt down. It was long, concealing everything to my mid-thigh. I honestly didn't need any shorts, but I wasn't about to give up the opportunity to be encased in what belonged to him. I quickly slid off my wet shorts and replaced them with his dry ones, deciding to leave my underwear on. Removing _those _would have made me feel a little Jessica Stanley-ish.

I placed my wet clothes on the floor of the car, by my feet, and glanced at Edward. He was still respectfully turned away, leaning against the head rest. I just wanted to curl up behind him and hold him again; even the smallest space between us felt like miles.

"I'm done," I finally said, giving the bottom of the shorts one last self-conscious tug to hide more of my legs, even though they covered me more than my own clothes had.

Edward turned from the window and examined my new look. He gave me the slightest of smiles. "You look cute."

I laughed shyly and tucked my arms around my waist, fisting the cottony material. "Thanks," I said, glancing down at myself. Cute indeed, with my pasty-white, skinny legs. I wished I was ten pounds heavier and that my slight summer tan hadn't faded so quickly.

"Are the clothes okay?" he asked.

I nodded, huddling into his shirt--_my _shirt. "Mm-hmm. Thank you," I said, feeling much better than _okay _to be wrapped up in something that was his.

What happened next shouldn't have been such a shock to me, but it was enough to cause my airway to nearly constrict. Edward reached down to the bottom hem of his shirt and lifted it, and I stared as the damp material slowly peeled off his body, exposing a pale set of well-defined abdominal muscles and…_dear God_, his chest. I watched, open-mouthed, as he pulled the shirt over his head, folded it in half, and ran it over his face and through his hair to collect any remaining moisture before balling it up and casually tossing it into the backseat. I watched a few drops of water run astray, down his flawlessly formed pectorals. He looked over and caught me mid-stare.

"You're…" I fumbled for an explanation of why I'd be ogling, and he studied my expression with his concerned, luminous eyes. His beauty was superlative to anything I'd ever seen--I couldn't even make an excuse. "Stunning."

Edward's apprehension melted, replaced by surprise as he glanced down at himself. Chuckling softly, he reached for his dry shirt and pulled it over his head with finesse. It seemed ridiculous to think so, but he made something as simple as dressing seem like a form of art--one in which I wanted to study, major, and get a full, hands-on experience…as long as he was my model.

"Stunning," he repeated, shifting his eyes to me, and gingerly brushing a trickle of water off my forehead. "No…I think you've already taken that title."

_Ow. Ow! That's your _tongue _that you're biting through!_

I managed not to break into the nervous giggle-fit that was tickling the inside of my chest. "I'd like to know where to purchase those rose-colored lenses you're staring through," I said, unable to help grinning.

He sighed. "Whatever gets you to remove the foggy ones you wear when you look at yourself," said Edward, pulling his hand back to run it through his hair.

I bit the inside of my lip and furrowed my eyebrows. "Ever hear a story about a pot, a kettle, and the color black?"

He smiled a bit and unfolded a pair of dry pants for himself. "You might want to turn away, or you're going to see more of me than you'd like."

I froze for a single second, and then my giggles broke free of their chains, pouring out before I could stop them. I managed to turn in the opposite direction before he could watch blood swirl throughout my cheeks and I quickly swallowed, mumbling an apology before I transfixed my gaze out the rain-streaked window.

_You little wench. Don't you _dare _envision it. _

Hoping that the small sound I heard from Edward was a laugh, I settled my arm across the edge of the window, peered out into the darkness, and tried not to listen to the exciting sounds of him pulling off another layer of clothing. There wasn't much to see except the car next to us, so I concentrated on the orchestra of the rainfall and watching the falling drops bounce off its roof--little, watery bombs exploding and rippling across the top. It felt nice to laugh after such an upsetting night, and if he was even managing to smile, then maybe talking wouldn't be so bad. Though, something told me I should burn that image of him, amused, into my memory--and to do so quickly, before things fell apart again.

"You can turn around," said Edward, tapping my shoulder.

I turned, warmed even by the simplest touch from him; any part of him was definitely better than the heat vents. Though, they were pretty warm, too. As the vague sensation nagged at my mind, I realized they were all pointing in my direction again. I frowned at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

I reached over and turned half of the apertures in his direction. "It'd be nice if you cared about yourself, too," I said before sitting back in my seat.

Edward shrugged with a small smile, laying his head against the head rest. "Pot…kettle…" he said.

"You started it," I muttered, turning my body so that I was facing him, and tucking my hair behind my neck so it wouldn't dampen my shirt.

Edward just sighed and closed his eyes. "Consider it my apology for collapsing on top of you in the rain."

I rolled my eyes, though he didn't see me. "Maybe you should lay in the back if you're going to sleep," I joked lightly.

His eyelids popped open. "Sorry," he said, rubbing a fist over his eye. "I'm always exhausted after…"

I waited, but he didn't finish his sentence, hesitant as always. I reached for the lever on the side of my seat and pulled it up, reclining the back.

"Tilt your seat back," I said, lying down. "Just relax."

He watched me closely before mirroring my actions, sighing as his cheek pressed against the leather. He reached back to rub his neck and eventually gave me a sheepish look. "This is embarrassing," Edward said dejectedly. "You really don't have to hear this if you don't want to."

I bent my arm and placed my head across the crook, gazing to the side for a moment before locking eyes with him again. "Remember what you said to me at the hospital? About how you _wanted _to listen if it made me feel better?" He nodded. "That's how I feel," I continued. "You can tell me anything…unless, of course, you'd rather talk to someone else. I could always go get Doris."

Edward smirked momentarily before becoming serious again. "No," he said softly, resignation settling in his expression. "I'll tell you."

Anticipation and concern rose inside me like a curious tide. I'd been longing to know what was inside his head for the past few days, and now he was about to tell me…though, he certainly didn't look relieved about finally divulging it; he looked timorous and peaked. If only there wasn't a gap between the seats, I would have curled up next to him and pulled him into my arms again; since there was, I reached out and placed my hand upon his.

There was no need to encourage him with words. I could tell that my gesture was enough; it was up to him to begin, whenever he was ready. He avoided my eyes, and I waited patiently, gently rubbing his hand with my thumb.

"My dreams aren't just about Justin, my neighbor," he said finally. "They're mostly about my parents."

I didn't think it was possible, but his face visibly blanched even more. I squeezed his hand.

"They died last year, in August, exactly a week before what I did," Edward continued, still unwilling to look up. "We were supposed to go camping--my mother loved it, and she knew I was planning on enlisting in the Army that fall. She wanted us to go on vacation before then…but my father and I were arguing the night before, so much that he said I could just go by myself--since I was planning on leaving my family and career behind, anyway."

He paused for a moment, propping his head up on his arm and huddling into his elbow. "I was so angry…he knew how much I'd always tried to please him--how hard I worked to get where I was, even though I was never truly happy about it. So, I told him to go to hell, and I left."

His expression made my heart ache. I knew whatever was coming next wasn't going to be easy for him to say. The purr of the Volvo's engine and the soft flow of the heat wasn't enough to keep me calm or comfortable anymore; not when Edward was lying in front of me, slowly opening a wound that he'd obviously been trying to sew shut for so long.

"I ended up taking my dad's advice," he said with a sour chuckle. "I went camping by myself, if you can call driving to a campsite, getting drunk, and passing out in a sleeping bag in my backseat such a thing. The next morning, I felt awful about just taking off. I knew my mom would be worried--I hadn't answered any of her calls the night before--so I called her back, but never got an answer.

"I figured I'd just go back to my parents' house and try to make peace with my father," he said, growing quieter. "I figured one of us had to give sooner or later--that we couldn't both be stubborn forever. It's strange, because as soon as I pulled up in the driveway, I could sense that there was something wrong. Even when I let myself into the house, nothing seemed out of the ordinary…not visibly, anyway. But it was quiet; foreboding, almost. No one answered when I called out, but their cars were still parked outside, so, I went upstairs to check if they were there."

Edward opened his hand and clutched mine in a snug grasp, shutting his eyes tightly with a quick breath as he pulled my hand under his chin, as if needing something to hold.

"They were in their bedroom," he said, starting to mildly tremble. The seconds passed protractedly, and if it hadn't been for the pattering sound of the rain, we would have been sitting in a thick silence. Edward kept his eyes closed, presumably suspended in a dark memory.

"They were dead," he finally spoke, though it was barely more than a whisper.

I knew it had been coming, but the words still tore ruthlessly at my insides as if it was still a bad surprise. I couldn't stop my thoughts from racing, wondering what on earth could cause the death of two people at the same time. Carbon monoxide? Some kind of freak accident?

"Murdered," Edward finished.

A slight gasp escaped my lips before I could control it. _Murdered? They were _murdered_? _That particular thought had never even crossed my mind. Murder was something I always heard about on television or regarded in books. I rarely even heard about it from Charlie, though he probably kept his mouth shut about such occurrences, most of the time. I couldn't believe I was so naïve.

I stared at him, too shocked to speak or even move. A knot slowly formed in my chest and tightened considerably as I took in his anguished features. "What--did--?" I shook my head, failing at finding the right thing to say. How could there possibly _be _a right thing to say?

"I saw my father first," he said, finally opening his eyes a bit, but avoiding my face. "He was on his back on the floor, by the bed, staring up at the ceiling--his eyes were blank. And my mother--" His voice cut off and released my hand to run his hand over his face, taking a short breath before going on.

"They were _ripped apart_," he said in a slightly broken voice as he looked up at me, his eyes brimming with crystalline tears. "Both of them. Their throats, their chests…"

I swallowed thickly, bringing my hand to my mouth to try to restrain myself from crying, and shivered, despite the heat.

"The police said they weren't the only ones," he continued quickly. "Another family on the other side of town were killed in the same manner. Some kind of serial killing…"

I chewed hard on my fingernail, trying to stop myself from visualizing such a thing, but my mind was much too ruminative to stop--involuntarily, I pictured Charlie and Renée, and immediately felt lightheaded.

"I'm scaring you," Edward said, raking his hand through his hair. I shook my head, obviously lying, and he sighed. "You're biting your nails. You do that when you're upset."

"Of course I'm upset," I said softly, thankful that I was lying down. "That's _horrible_. I…I don't even know what to say."

"It's all right," he said, just as quiet, running his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids. "You don't have to say anything. I've said too much, anyway. I'll bet you're wishing you never asked."

"No," I said quickly, reaching back over to him and rubbing his arm. "I'm glad you told me. I'm just sorry that there aren't any words to make it better." And there really weren't. _Nothing _could make that better. "So…that's what you dreamt of tonight?"

Edward nodded. "One's always slightly different than the next. Some are worse than others. Most of the time, I'm able to calm down after I wake up, but other times…I can't. I'll be awake, but I can't stop seeing flashes of what I just dreamt about, or what I remember about that day. It's like I'm hallucinating, and it makes me panic." He scoffed, creasing his eyebrows. "That makes me sound insane, I know."

I thought back to Port Angeles, right before I had fallen into oncoming traffic because _I_ couldn't stop seeing flashes of what had happened with Phil. "Not to me," I said honestly.

He ran his hand along the edge of his seat, tapping his fingers uneasily. "I've just never told anyone before," he admitted. "I try to remember to speak about them as if they're still alive. It's easier than having to tell people the truth, and saves me from slipping into a state that I can't control. It's hard to hide sometimes."

Now, it was no surprise as to why he'd always been so jumpy and quick to avoid certain conversations--and no wonder he was always so _exhausted_. I wouldn't sleep either if I had such nightmares about my parents.

"You've really never talked to anyone about it before?" I asked.

"Only once, to a doctor," he said, tucking his hand under his head. "The first time it happened was the night Justin broke in. When I heard noises downstairs, my first thought was that whoever killed my parents had come back for me--and I just reacted. My heart was racing and I was terrified, and when he came around the corner, I shot. As soon as I realized what I'd done, I sort of lost control. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think--I thought I was having a heart attack from the way it felt. When the paramedics came to get Justin, they took me, too.

"The doctor threw out words like post-traumatic stress, panic attacks, and hysteria," he said, looking embarrassed. "I shrugged them off, thinking that it wouldn't be an ongoing occurrence. But a few other things happened after that, and I started waking up at night in the middle of…well, you saw."

I shifted in my seat, wishing I had the room to scoot closer to him. "What other things?"

"After Justin, my whole neighborhood seemed to think I was some kind of sociopath," he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "People were scared of me, especially since I was labeled a suspect in my parent's murder for a little while."

"They suspected _you_?" I said in shock, cringing at the thought. "Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly. "They always look at the surviving family members first, even if they pretend they don't. They thought I had something to _gain _from their death--inheritance money, if you want to be specific." He chuckled darkly. "As if I were actually planning on living the high life," he added bitterly.

I felt my forehead crease with wrinkles. The very idea made me furious; hadn't they seen what the whole tragedy had _done _to him? Better yet, hadn't anyone else been there for him? Other family? Friends? Someone who would at least listen to him, besides the police?

"I guess it helped that I had a law background," he said, once again, in tune to my thoughts. "I didn't really have anyone but my colleagues. I swear, I spent more time in court and police stations than I did my own apartment."

"Court?" I echoed, feeling more confused. "Did--did they catch the person who--?"

"Oh, no," he replied quickly, scoffing. "As far as I know, the police are still searching--there have been more murders of the same nature in different places since then; I won't go into it. But I was in court for myself. Justin's parents pressed charges. Third-degree murder." My mouth dropped, and though Edward waved his hand languidly, I could still see a bit of a tremor. "I was declared innocent, don't worry."

"Yeah, but no _wonder _you were so anxious," I said, taking his hand again. "How could anyone be expected to be calm under all that pressure in such a short amount of time?"

"I wish it _had _been short," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes again. "I was only cleared five months ago. It doesn't matter, I guess. Even without all the media and accusations…I would still have the same problem."

He looked so utterly lost. I slid my hand up to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, and he closed his eyes at my touch, sighing quietly. For once, I could read _his _mind. "Edward," I said gently, "you have nothing to be guilty about. You didn't mean for Justin to die--you didn't mean for _anyone _to die. You told me that--those are _your _words."

When Edward opened his eyes, he locked his gaze on me, pouring out the same, sorrowful desperation as the day we first spoke. "I wasn't there," he said in a low voice.

I stared back at him, confused.

"If I hadn't been arguing with him, they would have both been out of the house," he said forlornly.

_His parents. God, Bella, you really _are _stupid._

I shook my head, once again having to swallow the pressing urge to cry. "That wasn't your fault," I said, curling my fingers into his hair. "Not at all."

"I should have stayed," he said anyway, lowering his eyelids. "I could have done something. And even if I couldn't have, they would have at least killed me, too."

Chills--bad chills--reminiscent to icy knives invaded my chest and sliced deep into my core, and it was enough to push me over the proverbial edge. I squeezed my eyes shut before any tears could fall, even though they had already formed, and firmly pressed my lips together. "_Please_ don't say that," I whispered, running my free hand over my eyes to rid them of the treacherous evidence. I was supposed to be strong for him, not break down.

"I'm sorry," Edward muttered. He sucked in a slow breath and exhaled quietly as he rolled onto his back, and the faintest trace of moonlight highlighted his features. He took my hand and placed it on top of his chest, covering mine with both of his. I felt his steady heartbeat underneath my palm; the sensation was desirable, but I couldn't ignore the grief that also thoroughly thumped out of him. He eyed me deeply. "But I don't deserve anything good. I'm certainly not worthy of _this_--you."

"You don't think you have the right to be happy…because you're alive?" I asked.

"I don't deserve anything because of the choices I've made," he answered in a subdued voice, staring at the roof of the car.

I gently scraped my fingernails back and forth over his shirt. "What choices?"

The rain streaming down the windshield mirrored on his skin, creating the phantom tears that he was refusing to shed. "Can we talk about it in the morning?" he asked, gripping my hand securely. "I'm getting tired."

I'd been too busy listening to realize that he was still wracked with fatigue. "Yeah," I replied softly, wondering if he would agree to walk inside yet. "You're not planning on sleeping out here, right?"

Edward shook his head. "I should probably move now, or I might have to," he said, releasing my hand, and I reluctantly lifted it off his chest. "Are you going to even be able to sleep? Talking to me is probably going to give _you _nightmares."

He was right; I probably _would _dream about it. The whole story was horrific. And _I_ was only able to _imagine _it; Edward had _seen _it. He'd seen his own parents' bodies filleted, lying in their own blood, faces frozen in their final breaths. It was sickening--criminal, even, to be damned to relive a sight like that over and over; and it was beyond my understanding why anyone should have to be plagued by haunting nightmares, reminded of such visions as they closed their eyes…but there Edward was. He was living proof, and he was beaten by it. The dread showed in every ounce of him.

"I'll be fine," I lied, moving the back of my seat up to its normal position. "Are you? I mean, will you be all right to sleep? You're not still feeling sick, are you?"

He shook his head, sitting up as well, cringing a bit. "No. I was just…too worked up, I guess. But I'm okay, I promise. And the only good thing about breaking down like that is the sleep that comes afterward. It's like I just ran a marathon; trust me, I'll pass out."

Edward turned off his car and we grabbed our wet clothes, stepping back out into the rain. We moved quickly back to the lodge, and I breathed a quiet sigh once we were inside the familiar lobby. The climb to our floor was slow--for once, I felt as though _I _had to be the one to catch Edward if _he _fell.

"Bella, you're doing the mom-arm," he said, giving me a strange look, though grinning a bit.

I snatched my hand away from his side, not even realizing that it had been unconsciously hovering next to him. _Oh, wonderful, you idiot! Remind him of his _mother_, of all people, at a time like this. _

"Sorry," I said, clasping my hands together as we reached the fourth floor landing. "I was afraid you were going to have a 'me' moment. You're practically running on empty and you still have better coordination than I do. That's kind of sad, actually."

"I'm not perfect," he replied, walking to his door. "If it makes you feel better, I hit my head a lot. Price of being tall, I guess."

"At least your hair can hide the bruises," I said, cracking a smile. "And you don't do so on cars and sidewalks."

"How is your head, by the way?" Edward asked, lifting my hair, which was undoubtedly frizzy, away from my forehead. "It looks better."

I snorted. "Yeah, if you discount the lovely shade of black and blue. It's fine, I promise."

"Good," he said, pulling his hand back and pushing it through his own hair, which was somewhat sticking up in an endearing way. Beautiful, controlled chaos. "So…are you sure you're going to be all right?"

_He was asking _me_? _"Yes, but…" I trailed off, debating on whether or not I should ask him to stay with me--not for me, really, but for him. Even though he had just divulged an incredible amount of his past, I still wasn't exactly sure what he was thinking about at the moment; there were a number of awful things that could still be running through his mind. "Are you…?"

"What?" he asked, curious.

_I'm thinking 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?' I'm such a hooker. _I just shook my head. "Never mind."

Here we were, back at the semi-awkward 'goodnight' moment, only the air felt much heavier because of the past twelve hours. I briefly wondered what time it was.

"I'm not sure how you'd feel about this," Edward suddenly spoke up, running the tips of his fingers over his doorknob, which he was suddenly very interested in studying. "But do you think…I mean, would you…?"

I stared at him as the seconds ticked by. _You'd better finish that sentence, Mr. Clairvoyance._

He finally sighed shortly and looked up. "Would you stay with me?"

My heart seemed to go from zero to sixty in a split second as he watched me with his vulnerable, wondrously green eyes, trying to decipher the look on my face. "In your room?" I asked, unable to even blink from being so mesmerized.

_What? Um, no, genius, he means stay with him in spirit!_

"You can say no," he said quickly, looking down at the floor.

"No," I said, creasing my eyebrows, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I mean, no, I'm not saying no." _What the--can you speak _intelligently_ for once?_ "I'm saying yes."

His expression softened, and I _swore _that for a split second, his cheeks turned the smallest bit of pink. _Holy shit. _My hormones had their own trajectory to space, and they soared without warning, leaving my insides in a hot frenzy from the lift off.

"I feel like such a child," he muttered under his breath. "You really don't have to--"

"Edward," I said determinedly, stepping close to him, "you didn't have to take me out for breakfast because Jessica Stanley spit in my food. You didn't have to drive all over town for my medical insurance and stay with me at the hospital. You didn't have to listen to me cry about what my stepfather did to me. You _certainly _didn't have to watch over me all night because I had a concussion or put up with my questions and sleep-talking and tripping over myself and my _father_, of all people. But you did."

"I wanted to," he said, seeming a little surprised by my rant.

I tucked my wet clothes under my arm and put my hands on his upper arms, squeezing gently, and gave him a profound gaze. "Well, then will you please look into my eyes and see that _I_ want to be there for _you_, now?"

He stared at me thoughtfully, and opened his mouth to speak, but I put two fingers on his lips before he could even start telling me something silly like I shouldn't be wasting my time. "I'm going to go hang my clothes up and I'll be over," I said, taking a step back. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," he replied, still pensively studying me. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

"Okay," I said, turning, restraining myself from sprinting to my door. _God, his lips are warm. He's always warm. What I wouldn't give to see if _other _parts of him are--and there you go again. Chill the hell out._

I entered my room and haphazardly tossed my clothes over the desk chair, then grabbed a different pair of panties out of my bag and dashed into the bathroom. I changed my underwear, as it had never really dried from sitting on the wet ground, and glanced in the mirror. My hair was, indeed, frizzy and lackluster. I picked up my hairbrush and ran the bristles through my long tresses, hoping to bring some life into it. When I finished, I squinted at a bottle of body spray sitting on the sink.

_You're just going to sleep. Quit primping; you're acting like the girls you hated in high school._

I sighed, and peeked at myself in the mirror again before heading out the door, but I stopped as I finally took a good look at what I was wearing. The shirt I had on was light blue and there was a phrase going across the chest. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to read the backward, reflected print in the mirror, then glanced down at my chest to see if it really said what I thought. My mouth dropped.

It read: _I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep._

_No fucking way. _This was the second time words from _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening _had popped up out of nowhere. First was the painting in Edward's room; now it was his shirt. It was a strange coincidence, that was for sure. I ran my fingers over the inscription, my head suddenly swirling with a mixture of new thoughts, thinking that there was some sort of underlying message to all this…was I missing something? I wasn't exactly a believer in the supernatural, but I couldn't help but feel like Edward and I, and this place, were somehow tied together for a reason.

_Get a hold of yourself. You didn't major in philosophy for a reason. You sucked at it._

Shaking my head, I turned off the bathroom light and the lights in my bedroom, and closed the door as I walked into the hall. I rubbed at my eyes as I walked down to Edward's room, feeling my own fatigue start to set in. It had been a long day. I knocked softly on his door, but when there was no answer, I timidly turned the doorknob, thinking that maybe one day, I'd actually be invited inside instead of always letting _myself _in.

His bedroom was empty, but sounds of running water were coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom. I took in the beauty of the fireplace and painting again before sitting hesitantly on the foot of the bed. I was starting to feel nervous, as if I was sleeping over a guy's place for the first time--only without the presumption of sexual escapades. Edward and I had taken a nap together before, but that was on top of the covers. This time, I'd be lying next to him _underneath _them. Though, his bed was bigger--there was plenty of space for us to spread out. I bit my lip nervously, hoping that my mouth would behave itself and that I wouldn't do something promiscuous, like roll on top of him at some point during the night. Hopefully, if I did, he would sleep through it. He _had _said he was drained, after all.

Thankfully, Edward came out of the bathroom before I could let my frisky imagination run away any further. He gave me a small smile as he smoothed his cinnamon-colored hair down. "Hi," he said almost soundlessly, causing welcoming chills spread throughout my body. Though I was sure he didn't mean to, he always sounded musically seductive, like the intoxicating symphonies that flowed from his speakers. I suddenly longed to know if he played the piano just as enticingly.

"Um," he continued, taking a few steps toward me. "Is everything okay?"

I was having another staring-and-no-speaking moment. _Damn you, Edward, and you're enrapturing qualities. _"Yeah, sorry," I said, childishly bringing my hand to my mouth and squeezing my bottom lip.

Edward walked to the foot of the bed, continuing to comb his fingers through his hair. "Do you favor a particular side of the bed?"

"Oh," I said, glancing at the forest-green comforter. "Which side do you usually sleep on?"

"The one closest to the windows, but you can have--"

"Oh, Edward, I'll be fine over here," I interrupted, scooting myself over to the side closest to the door. "I should probably apologize in advance. You're not a stranger to my sleep talking…seriously, if I wake you up, hit me with a pillow."

Edward chuckled as he got into bed on the opposite side of me. "Oh, don't worry, I will," he said with a teasing smile. "Feel free to smack me, as well, if I do anything to disturb you."

"I doubt you will," I said as I slowly pulled back the comforter and slid myself underneath. "You look exhausted. You said you usually sleep well after…?" I wasn't sure what to call it.

"Freaking out?" he offered, lying down and settling onto a pillow.

"_No_," I said, copying his actions, hugging an extra pillow. "Having a panic attack, I guess. Right?"

"If you want to put it accurately, yet embarrassingly, then yes," he said, looking chagrined. He rubbed at his eyes and peered over at me. "I'm really sorry you had to see any of that. Especially watching me be sick. Between that and Jessica, I'm running out of mouthwash."

"Don't be embarrassed. And I don't know why you're apologizing," I said, squeezing my pillow a bit tighter, remembering how agonized he had looked. "You had to see me looking all disgusting in the hospital. And if it makes you feel better, I got sick in front of Angela _and _Dr. Cullen."

"In front of the cute doctor, huh?" Edward said with a half-smile, blinking slowly. He had only been in bed for ten seconds and was already fading fast in front of my eyes.

"Oh, you thought so, too, then?" I joked, pushing my hair out of my face.

Edward managed a quiet laugh before stifling a yawn. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, sighing quietly. "I don't mean to start passing out so fast…sleep just kind of takes over."

"You act as though you're being lazy," I said, reaching over to rub his shoulder. "Close your eyes. I'll be here."

"You need to sleep, too."

"I will," I promised, sliding my hand down his arm and into his hand. "You first."

His eyes lingered on mine for a few moments before his eyelids slid shut, leaving his full eyelashes to cover the dark shadows beneath them. I stroked his back lightly, stopping every now and then to mildly brush my hand across the base of his neck so that his hair tickled my fingers. A few minutes passed, and when his mouth parted with even breath, giving me the impression that he'd fallen asleep, I halfheartedly drew my hand back and relaxed against my pillow, absorbing every angle, facet, and expression on his face. I'd honestly never seen him look so serene.

Eventually, my own eyes grew heavy and I rolled over to switch off the lamp beside me. I nestled into the pillows and comforter, letting my vision adjust to the darkness. Fair bits of dim light came from the small windows, and just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw Edward turn onto his other side so that his back was facing me. I ran my fingers through my hair and watched his back fluctuate in tandem with his breathing; the whole situation felt surreal. I was in _his _bed, watching _him _sleep, and--

"Bella?" came his dulcet voice.

My hand froze halfway through my wavy curls; I thought he'd been asleep. "Yes?" I answered, wondering if something was wrong. When he didn't answer, I pushed myself up on my elbow, ready to switch the light back on, and I heard him exhale soundly.

"Thank you," he breathed in a whisper, relief flooding his words. "For everything. I just…_thank you_."

My body moved before I could think, and in seconds, I had my chest pressed against his back, my arms wrapped around him, and my face nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the sweetest, most invigorating scent I had ever discovered. I was surprised by my own boldness, but I wouldn't have been able to back away if I wanted to. He absolutely _owned _me in that moment.

One of his hands found mine and he brought it close to his chest, clutching it delicately. A moment later, I felt his lips touch down on my knuckles like soft, warm compresses, wholly heating me from the outside, in. I reciprocated, molding the rest of my body to his curve, and pressed my lips to his neck gently, sprinkling his skin with affectionate kisses.

I moved again, brushing my lips by the base of his ear as I whispered, "Always," before snuggling against him. We stayed that way for awhile, breathing as one entity, soaking up the others' touch. Eventually, I felt his grip loosen as he drifted off, relaxing fully, and just before I allowed myself to beckon to the dream gods, I inhaled one last breath of his fresh, alluring aroma of vanilla and rainwater that was radiating from him and his clothes.

He was _not _getting his shirt back. Maybe his shorts. But that shirt was mine.

-:-

**Before I forget: BareChestCarward totally belongs to queenofgrey. You'll have to fight her for him. Oh, and Edward's (now Bella's) shirt really does exist. www(dot)zazzle(dot)com/i_have_promises_to_keepand_miles_to_go_before_i_tshirt-235298763258609653 I want it.**

**So, hello large amount of new readers! Where did you all come from? Have I been pimped out somewhere? Please let me know so I can send out thank-you cards! **

**Music, if you're interested: "Breathe In, Breathe Out" by Mat Kearney, "Fuori Dalla Notte" by Ludovico Einaudi, "I Want to Hold Your Hand," and "Blackbird" by The Beatles--it's Beatles month at Starbucks, or something, and I was inspired. I like the Across the Universe soundtrack, too, if that's what you prefer. Speaking of SBs-- f****antastically funny story (at least to me): I was sitting in Starbucks while writing this and happened to overhear some ladies talking Twilight fan fiction (no lie) and amid the many stories they were discussing, mine came up. I turned blood red and started giggling hysterically (though I really tried to be silent). I really wanted to say, "Psst…hi!" but I was too far stunned and would have sounded like a moron. If any of you girls are reading this, now you'll know that I wasn't laughing **_**at**_** you--just laughing in shock. I really appreciate the things you said (or that I eavesdropped on--forgive me) and will never forget how one of you blurted out what you would do with Edward's "candy cane." Thanks for making my night! Love, the girl in the corner with the laptop, cracking up all by herself.**

**Also, I'm participating in a challenge called The Twilight Twenty-Five. If you'd like to check out what I've done so far, you'll find it as a separate story on my profile. Go to thetwilight25(dot)livejournal(dot)com to read more about it and check out the other authors participating!**

**Anyway, that's all. Sorry for rambling. Good night (or good morning), my lovelies! Hope you sleep/slept as well as Bella--holding onto someone amazing like Edward…or, if anything, a really awesome pillow to snuggle up to--that's all **_**I've **_**got. *Snort* I'd love to hear from you, if you feel so inclined!**


	17. SoCo, and Oh, So Close

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I totally **_**owned **_**my friend in Bullsh*t (the card game) yesterday! OH, YES! OH, YES I DID! (I know. But I am excited, regardless.)**

**HUGE thank you to HisGoldenEyes(dot)com for rec'ing this story on their Fanfic Fridays. I can't even tell you…just thank you, my love. I checked my email the next day and thought there had been some sort of mistake with influx of messages. Also, to KStew411 on Twitter. :) I'm thrilled and honored that you guys think this is rec-worth, really. To all the ones without FF accounts who left me reviews (which doesn't let me reply back) I am in awe-thank you so much for the support. I always read and soak up every review, and I really try to get back to everyone, so please forgive me if I'm slow at replying! And yes, I realize that I've been epically failing at replying as of late. Siiiigh. I'll work on that.**

**And of course, thanks to Emilie Fauve, my Beta Extraordinaire.**

**I tried to keep my A/n short this time. But I LOVE all my readers. You know that, right? Huh? Huh? I need to calm down. Sorry it took me so long to update! That is all. Muah.**

-:-

Wind blew across my eyelids, tickling my skin as though someone was whispering in a feather-like voice across my cheekbones. The feeling was persuasive, and I opened my eyes in curiosity, wondering what the scene in front of me could possibly hold that was enough to cajole me from my peaceful state. The air was cool and clean, but thick with fog, nearly obscuring the forest and distorting the images around me. The familiar ground was soft, and the grass was comforting, pillowing my body with its cushy patches.

The meadow, again. I would recognize it anywhere.

I sat up carefully, watching currents of golden leaves swirl around me, dancing in blustery choreography. They circled me faster and faster, until they blew upward and nearly out of sight; yet one cascaded back down and landed atop my chest, right over my heart. I lifted it by the stem and twirled it in my fingers, examining the spidery, branching veins with interest. Suddenly, a spark of electricity seemed to transfer from the leaf to my hand, and warmth sparked through my arm and rippled through my chest in surging succession. A thick, red stream began to spring up from the stem, pumping through and painting the miniscule canals like blood, growing fuller with color by the second.

The wind impelled past me and blew the leaf from my hand, billowing it forward as the fog parted, revealing a small opening-a space between the green brush and twisted tree trunks. The entrance was dark, reminiscent of a cave, and a lone, loose twig swung down from one of the trees, undulating in rhythm like a curling finger that was beckoning me inside.

I did not move forward, for there was something compressing my chest, though it remained invisible; it held me back with its pressure, as if cautioning me to remain static. I obediently restrained myself from standing, instead clinging to fistfuls of the grass, grounding my fingers into the green tendrils. I watched the shadows change into obscure shapes until sunlight broke through the mist, highlighting over the trees.

Suddenly, a pair of glinted, eldritch eyes flashed in the opening, glowing as bright as the sun and making me gasp aloud.

I jerked slightly as my eyes popped open, fully awakening from my dream, and I was met with a another fog-a brown, hazy one. My hair was in my eyes. I nestled my face against my pillow, brushing the hunk of hair out of my face, only to realize that I wasn't grasping a pillow like I normally did during sleep. The room was fairly dim, but I could see clearly-I had my arms full of Edward.

I froze, hoping that my movement hadn't been enough to rouse him. Surprisingly, he remained stationary, barely even breathing loud enough for me to hear. "Edward?" I whispered, afraid that he was already awake and keeping quiet for my benefit.

No answer. He was still fast asleep.

I let out a muted breath, relieved that he had lasted this long without an interruption of any kind; at least, I thought so. I hadn't heard or felt him wake during the night, though I had been out like a light, myself. I carefully craned my neck to peek at his night table, but the alarm clock that I thought would be there was gone. _Weird_. For all I knew, it was still early morning, or late afternoon. There wasn't a lot of light coming through the windows-I presumed it was because of the notorious clouds, again.

I felt well-rested, but still thought I could probably close my eyes and drift right back into unconsciousness. Maybe it was the warm, comforting feeling of being so close to Edward that was the cause, or the fact that I wanted to savor this moment for as long as I possibly could. I closed my eyes and let the memories of the night replay in my mind-each and every one that brought me to _this_. As much as I wished it hadn't been so difficult for him, I couldn't bring myself to feel unhappy about how we had ended up. This was…just…

_Fucking incredible. Don't pretend like you're not ecstatic right now._

I was fully aware that I'd fallen asleep with my arm around him, and it wasn't exactly surprising that I was still cuddled up against him like we both were wearing Velcro. But at some point during the night, I had managed to entangle both of my legs with his, and the feeling of being so _close _to him was staggering in the best possible way. As much as _I _was in my glory, I only hoped that I had been of some comfort to _him_, no matter how small the amount, in having helped him feel better, or safer, while asleep.

_What a title. Bella Swan, Spooning-Catharsis Specialist._

I chuckled silently into Edward's back, and gently shifted, carefully lifting my arm from around his side so I could pull another pillow under my head. The added height allowed me to have a view of his face, and I found myself studying his every quality: polished eyebrows and eyelashes; a light, impeccable complexion; an almost perfectly-shaped nose; full, kissable lips…

_Wake him up and test out those babies. __Who cares if you haven't brushed your teeth? Well…he might. _

I wanted to finish what I had started before we fell asleep, going further by kissing down his neck and over his collarbone, and finally, up to his mouth. Sooner or later, if I didn't get the chance to bring his lips to mine, I was going to regress back to a thirteen-year-old and have a fantasy make-out session with my pillow. I leaned down so that his soft hair tickled the tip of my nose, and as I took a deep breath, I wondered how on earth he could manage to smell so good _all the time_. It was as if he had a secret weapon, drawing me in with his scent so he could do God knows what-ravish me, if he pleased.

_You wish._

As much as I wanted to stay in bed and soak up the image of him sleeping so calmly, it made me feel a bit clingy. More time passed, and eventually, I decided that my morning breath wasn't going to go away on its own, and I needed to get up, no matter what time it was or how the skies looked.

I carefully slid away from him, tucking the comforter around his back to fill in the space where I had been, and gently got out of bed. He barely moved, only shifting slightly with a quiet exhale. I walked around to his side of the bed and tugged the small curtains down to block the window panes. If any sunlight did happen to stream in, I didn't want it to wake him prematurely. I turned to give him one more look: his face was half-hidden by his pillow, and he was still calm, quiet…beautiful, as always. I couldn't help myself from combing my fingers through his hair, brushing it off his face, and lightly pressing my lips against his temple before walking to the door.

_Bella, you need to get a hold of yourself. _The feelings presently flowing through me were unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome by any means. But it was _me_, after all, and I wasn't sure what to make of them; I'd never thought I would feel so strongly for someone. It was still a bit shocking that after everything, and out of everyone, he trusted _me _to listen to his story and stay with him, and I couldn't deny that, overnight, something new had grown between us. I was _falling…_not in love, because that was ridiculous, but it was something stronger than just _liking _him_. You're not supposed to let yourself _fall _for anyone, not even a little. You've wrecked relationships that weren't even _yours_. Imagine what you'll do to your _own_. This is totally against your rules. _

I carefully shut his door so that it barely made a sound, and turned to walk to my room. And promptly froze.

_Oh, shit._

My eyes widened and my breath escaped me as I stared at the staircase, where Jessica Stanley was busy dusting the banister, her earphones buzzing with indistinct music. Almost instantly, her mouth fell open as she spotted me, ripping the earphones out of her ears and staring me down, her face flushing a royal shade of red, because, after all, I'd just walked out of _Edward's _room, wearing _Edward's _clothes, and I looked like I was taking the walk of shame. I knew that I had just completely doused every one of her hot, fantasy panty-dates that she ever could have conjured up. I was pretty sure that my cheeks were inflamed, too, but that didn't stop me from smirking. The can of dusting spray fell from her hands, and made a loud clunk as it hit the floor and rolled, echoing as it bounced down the stairs.

"You might want to be quiet," I finally said, biting my lip to hold back laughter. "He's, um…still sleeping."

The way her jaw was practically swinging back and forth made me lose it. I hurried to my room, snorting back laughter, and quickly shut the door behind me, thinking that I should really remember to lock it from now on. Now that Jessica thought Edward and I had been dirty dancing, mattress-style, I was fairly sure that an animal carcass really _was _going to end up under my comforter, thanks to Whores-truly.

I bolted my door, still snickering, and looked around my room with a sigh. I needed to tidy up. My clothes were all over the place, not to mention random odds and ends that had spilled out of my bags. I ran my fingers over the fabric of Edward's shirt once more before I pulled it over my head and folded it into a neat square. I took off his shorts and folded them, too, then placed them both under one of my pillows. I was still planning on keeping his shirt for as long as I could; if anything, I could make the excuse that I wanted to wash it before I gave it back; although, truthfully, I wasn't about to wash it yet. It still smelled like him, and I wanted to wear it to bed again later that night…unless he invited me to stay in that glorious bed of his again.

_You could always give him the option of staying with you, too. _

I shook my head and went into the bathroom. _You can fantasize while you shower. Just get in there, already._

I had fun playing with the different scented shampoos Renée had packed for me, mixing Apple Aphrodisiac with Sugar Cane Succulence; leave it to my mother to give me sultry-sounding hair care products. I lingered in the warm water for awhile, enjoying the comfort it brought after a night of getting poured on, and it wasn't until after I had gotten dressed and fixed my hair that I realized that it was already a few minutes after noon. I grabbed my purse and my key, locking my door this time, and walked down the hall to Edward's door. I couldn't hear anything…

I didn't want him to think that I had just high-tailed it out of his room sometime during the night, or had a regretful 'morning-after' moment, even if all we had done was sleep. I deliberated for a moment before I decided to leave him a note. I dug in my purse, scrounging for a piece of paper; in the end, all I had was an old receipt, but it would have to do. I pressed the receipt against the banister, trying to think of what to write.

_Ha. How about: 'Dear Edward…In fear that I would start dry-humping you while you were still asleep, I excused myself.'_

I shook my head and started writing, trying not to think too hard about it:

_Edward,_

_I figured you must be exhausted, so I didn't want to wake you._

_I really hope you're feeling better and that sleep brought you _

_the peace you needed. _

_It's a little past noon, and I thought you_

_might like some time to yourself once you're up. Though, I'll be_

_downstairs if you're looking for me. I'd like your company,_

_if you wouldn't mind mine._

_-Bella_

_Also, I'm glad you asked me to stay. I wouldn't have _

_traded it for anything._

I stared at the what I had just written, my mouth falling open at the last part. _What the hell possessed you to just spill _that _out?_ _'I wouldn't have traded it for anything…' Fatal Attraction 2: Psychotic Swan. _I sighed, knowing that I probably would have blurted it out sooner or later, and at least writing it would save me the embarrassment of actually speaking it aloud to his face. Now…where to leave the note… I supposed I could slip it under the door; there was no way I'd leave it in the hallway, in fear that it would be picked up by Jessica or Lauren-or, God forbid, _Doris_. Something told me that she wouldn't exactly _judge _me, but would feel the need to mercilessly embarrass me further during our next meal. _'So, Mr. Masen, Isabella…did you two have a nice sleepover? Was the bed big enough for _both _of you?' _Edward or I would probably need the Heimlich maneuver.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, considering leaving it in his room; for all I knew, he was already awake and just lying in bed. Tentatively, I turned the doorknob and peeked inside. Edward _was _in bed, on his back this time, but his eyes were still closed. I tiptoed over to the night table and set the note down, pausing to trace my fingers along the edge of one of the velvety pillows. In that one, diminutive moment, I had to hold back from crawling back into bed beside him. He'd pushed the comforter away from the top half of his body, and just the way his arm was invitingly stretched out, and how his t-shirt had exposed just a bit of skin on his side forced me to take a deep breath. If I didn't leave now, I'd probably dive in next to him, hug him close, and freak him out.

_Go. Go, go, go! _I reluctantly walked back out, closing his door softly, and resigned to make my way downstairs to the lobby.

Passing time was not as easy as I had imagined it would be. Doris was out on an errand, as I was told by another staff member who was sitting behind the manager's desk, and Mr. Miller was nowhere to be found, either. Here I was, finally presented with the opportunity to have some time to myself, like I'd originally planned since my arrival…and now I was disappointed because I had no one to hang out with. It figured.

Over the next few hours, I busied myself with magazines, and random conversation with a few of the older women, who still pressed to set me up with their sons and grandsons. Once my stomach started growling like my truck's engine, I grabbed an apple and decided to sit outside, as the sunny weather _had _returned. I sat at one of the picnic tables in the back, munching on the apple, enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair; when I closed my eyes and tried to envision myself in a bathing suit, instead of jeans and a sweater hoodie, it was almost like being back at the beach. It was probably still in the eighties back home. Though, I couldn't deny that I was loving the feeling of the fall weather, too.

After daydreaming for what seemed like forever, I pulled my phone out of my purse and glanced at the time. It was after _four _o'clock. I started to feel a little concerned; I knew Edward said that he would be knocked out for awhile, but did it normally last this long? I wasn't positive what time we had fallen asleep; if I was going to guess, it was probably around two-thirty or three AM-and that meant he was going on fourteen hours. It had been awhile since my last psychology class, and I couldn't really remember much about panic attacks except their symptoms. I assumed that, maybe, he just needed to recuperate after using up so much energy, which he really didn't seem to have much of anyway, since he rarely got a good night's sleep. I stretched my arms and shoulders, thinking that it might not hurt to go and check on him again.

_God, he's not your _child_, damn it. And you don't want to go up there just to _check_, you want to snuggle up to his-_

"Bella?" came a soft voice and a tap on my shoulder, which made me spin around with a startled gasp. I looked up to see Edward standing there, eyes shining effervescently, looking down at me with a slight smile. "Sorry to scare you," he said quietly, running his hand through his hair in such a sexy manner, as if he had secretly studied the art of astonishing girls with simple movements.

"Oh, it's okay," I said, a smile spreading across my face. I was pleasantly surprised by his appearance; it had been awhile since I'd seen him look so radiant-the ample hours of sleep had brought an immeasurable amount of life back into him. He had color in his cheeks and actually appeared relaxed, contrasting the innumerable tension that had plagued his entire body all week. "I was just thinking about you." _Thinking that I wanted to go to your room and bite your earlobe. _"I mean…just wondering if you were still sleeping."

_And he's obviously not, jackass. Got anything better?_

"Well, at least it's still daylight," he said, chuckling, and took a seat beside me. "I only woke up half an hour ago. I figured I could try to make up for being such boring company." He paused, then added, "Thanks for the note."

I was thankful for the breeze, for it cooled my cheeks into submission. "You're welcome," I said shyly, wanting to run my hand over his back, just to feel if his shirt was as soft as it looked. "I'm glad you slept."

"Yeah, half the day away," he said, looking up at the sun, which had moved significantly to the west of the tree line. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, very exciting stuff," I said, spinning the browned apple core by its stem. "I read. I watched some servers clean off the lunch buffet. I was offered a few phone numbers of some of Forks' finest gentlemen."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm," I said breezily. "Couldn't beat their mothers and grandmothers away from me fast enough."

He laughed. "Have you called them yet?"

"I might," I teased. "I suppose it depends on whether or not I have plans later."

Edward leaned his head on his fist and gazed at me with his gorgeous green eyes, sighing lightly. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a break from me, you know. I'm surprised you didn't go straight back to your room and crash for a couple more hours. I must exhaust you."

_I can think of ways for you to exhaust me_. "Oh, stop. I slept fine," I said honestly. _More like 'spectacularly.' _"How are you feeling?"

"Really good, actually," he said, eyeing the tabletop as he tapped his fingers over the grainy wood, a refreshing grin crossing his face. "It's been awhile since I've said that." He snapped his eyes back to me. "I mean, it's not like-" He sighed again, looking sheepish. "You must think I'm completely depressing, huh?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, not at all," I said, slipping my thumbs through the crannies in my sweater sleeves. "You've been through hell, Edward. If I went through the things you have…I don't even know how I'd feel. But it'd be anything but good."

He looked away, still slowly moving his fingers across the splintered ridges; his hand was looking better, too, having almost healed from punching the Port Angeles idiots into surrender. I studied his movement for a few seconds; there was almost a careful precision about the way he moved-it wasn't just a simple motion. When it suddenly dawned on me what he might be doing, I stared at him, smirking with eager amusement. He seemed to feel my penetrating gaze, because his fingers froze and he narrowed his eyes to my face. "What?" he asked, curious.

"Are you-are you playing _air piano_?"

Edward returned his eyes to his hands and slowly brought them into his lap. He wrinkled his nose slightly, and gave me an embarrassed grin. "Beethoven," he said, tucking his arms around his waist. "I know a lot of his pieces by heart. It's a habit, I guess."

I bit my lip to keep from giggling like a little girl. It was the cutest damn thing I'd ever seen, but I didn't want to swoon and gush all over him like some sort of groupie. "That's a nice habit, though," I said, instantly yanking my fingers away from my mouth, as I'd been about to chew on my thumbnail again. "Better than mine. I just bite my nails."

He watched me for a moment, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands. "Do I embarrass you?" he asked in interest.

I gave him a peculiar look. "Huh? No."

"You're blushing," he conveyed, still studying my face. _Was I? _I lifted my hand to my cheek, which, indeed, was hot to the touch. I hadn't even noticed; I'd mostly become accustomed to the heat that constantly flared up inside me whenever he was around. "I mean, it's lovely, but I'm just hoping that I don't make you feel uncomfortable."

_Lovely. Dear God_. _Now _I could feel myself blushing…in more places than I cared to acknowledge.

"You're making it worse," I said, managing a laugh as I hid my face behind my hand. "Sometimes I blush for those reasons. But you're not making me uncomfortable, you're…" _Turning me on like a fiery Playboy Bunny. Causing my head to swim with adoration. _"Making me feel things I'm not used to feeling."

_How many ways could _that _be taken, genius?_

"But it's a good feeling, I promise," I said, pushing my hair back, fighting the urge to fan myself with my hands. I looked over at him and thought that my heart might stop at the sight of his hair blowing in the wind, eyes submerged with pensiveness and affection. As he magnetized my eyes to his, I wanted to ask him how he managed to captivate me without words, and how I could keep that lively look in his eyes constant; or why he chose me out of all people to share his time with.

But all I could do was keep breathing.

Without hesitation, he held his hand out. I stared, feeling my heart begin to accelerate, and then clasped his hand gently. He tugged me gently, pulling me closer, even though instant lure had already drawn me near a split second before he had done anything. Edward put his other hand behind my shoulder and leaned in slightly, and I swallowed, thinking that I might hyperventilate.

"I thought I was alone in that feeling," he whispered, and chills escalated through me as his hand delicately rubbed my back.

I shook my head slowly. "No," I whispered in return, placing my unoccupied hand on his knee. "You're not alone."

Suddenly, we were too close for eye contact. The green in his eyes blurred slightly, then everything darkened as my eyelids dropped, and the familiar aroma of soap, spice, and vanilla invaded my senses, and I felt almost dizzy as he slid his hand up my neck and pulled me closer until I could feel his breath on my lips-

"And _then _I told him he could watch it at the tavern if he wanted, because I wasn't about to postpone my Sunday knitting with the girls because of a damned _football _game!"

And then everything was bright again, and his warm hands were gone as I snapped my eyes open and turned toward the unwelcome voice, Edward mirroring my action. Two women were walking out of the back door, arm-in-arm, heading straight toward us. One of them chuckled and nodded in response, while the one who had spoken before continued.

"The Redskins weren't even on until Monday, anyway. I don't know why he cares about the Ravens!" She stopped as she spotted Edward and me practically pressed up against one another, and grinned brightly. "Oh, sorry to interrupt, kids! Carry on!" she called, turning back to the other woman and both of them continued walking, but not before glancing back at us, their eyes mainly focused on _Edward_, with profound interest, subdued chuckles, and knowing smiles.

Edward exhaled and I gathered my hair at the base of my neck, twisting it nervously as the women's voices diminished slightly, leaving us listening to the wavelike wind. _Damn it. We had gotten so freaking close._ I lifted my head and peeked at Edward, who pressed his lips together and looked at me with a sort of contemplation.

"Do you ever get the feeling that we're under some sort of quilting-circle scrutiny?" he asked quietly, looking amused.

I nodded, finally letting a small laugh escape my lips. "Constantly. Do you want to get out of here?" I asked, tugging at the bottom of my sweater.

He smiled undauntedly. "Please," he answered, taking my hands and pulling me up from the picnic table's bench.

I tossed my apple core down the hill, figuring that some little woodland creature would appreciate it, grabbed my purse, and we both walked around to the front of the lodge, into the parking lot.

"Do you have everything you need?" I asked him. "I can drive us, if you're ready."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, looking down the line of cars. "Which one's yours?"

I sucked in a small breath through my teeth and gave him a curious smile. "Guess."

Edward put his hands in his pockets and looked around, eventually smirking and pointing to the Senior Sunrise van. I smacked his arm. "No!" I said, laughing. "Try again, smart ass."

He chuckled and gestured to a small, plum-like colored, box-shaped car. "Nope," I answered, digging in my purse for my keys. "One more guess."

"Well, it's not like you drive something like _that_, right?"

I looked up to find that he was pointing to none other than my very own rust-bucket of a truck. I sighed and raised my eyebrows, holding my Chevy key up so he could see. He peered curiously at my keys for a moment, turned back to my truck, then brought his gaze back to me with wide eyes.

"That's…that's your-?" he asked, creasing his eyebrows and staring at my truck much like Jessica had, the first day I saw her. "Well, I'd say vehicle, but I'm not sure that could pass as a capable mode of transportation."

My mouth dropped and I breezed past him to the driver's side door. "Well, not everyone has a shiny, snooty _Volvo_, Gustaf Larson. Think you can try something new for a day?" I opened my driver's side door, hoisted myself up and got in the truck. I looked back at him expectantly.

He remained standing in the parking lot. "Who's Gustaf Larson?" he asked.

"One of the Volvo founders."

An impish smile crossed his face. "You don't seem like the car type. How'd you know that?"

I wasn't about to tell him that, while I was waiting for him to wake up, one of the magazines I'd pored over was _Car and Driver_; just in case he ever decided to talk about cars, I figured I might as well see if I could soak up any information. That way, I could make an intelligent contribution to the exchange. _Score one for me._

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "Anyway, are you getting in? Or do I have to write you an invitation?"

He hesitated, still smirking. "Do you drive like you walk?"

_Smug, sexy, aggravator._

"Just get in already," I grumbled, though fighting an almost uncontrollable compulsion to giggle.

"As long as you're sure we'll get there in the next couple of days," he added teasingly. As he walked to the passenger door, I ran my hand along my truck's dashboard as I usually did. "Don't listen to him, baby. You could crush that Volvo in two seconds."

Edward jumped into the seat beside me and buckled his seatbelt. He rolled down the window and rested his arm on the door. As he looked around at the inside, he ran his fingers through his thick hair, and then looked over at me expectantly.

"So, does she come with helmets?"

My breath whooshed out of me like a deflating balloon and I rolled my eyes at him. "Used to," I replied in a mock-cheeky voice. "I never replaced them after the last _incident_."

My Chevy roared to life as I turned on the ignition, and Edward grabbed the windowsill with his hand. He turned to me to make another remark, I was sure, but the look on my face must have deterred him. He simply smiled crookedly. I returned his peculiar little grin, and slowly backed out of the space and started down the long, winding hill to the main road.

"You've got to be starving," I said, feeling my own stomach rumble again; the apple had been nothing but a tease. "Do you want to go to dinner? Or should I say, 'breakfast?'"

"Sure," he answered, smiling again. I'd never seen him in such a good mood, or smile so much. It gave me more vivacity just knowing that he was feeling better. I paid attention to the road, but couldn't help giving nonchalant (at least I hoped they appeared that way) glances in his direction. He was casually resting his head against the seat, pausing, now and then, to look out the window, the slightest bit of pleasure showing in his eyes and lips. As I braked for a red light, I didn't believe he could do anything else to make himself look more appealing. But then he subtly licked his bottom lip, let out a soft sigh, and trailed his hand through his hair, his fingers performing five miracles as they parted his bronze sea of locks.

_Good God. _He was killing me.

"I don't believe you," I said matter-of-factly, giving him a curious stare.

He turned toward me, the wind whipping his hair back into his eyes, and his face mirrored mine, with the addition of confusion. "Why, what did I do?"

"You say you're not a mind reader," I joked, routinely smacking the dashboard of my truck as it rattled. Edward smirked when the sound stopped. "But sometimes when I think certain things…you just _do _them, or say exactly what's in my head. I think you're more telepathic than you let on."

"I think _you _are," he said, granting me a glimpse of his enlivening smile.

"_Me_?" I echoed, turning my attention back to the road as the light changed. "I never know what's going on in your head. How did I suddenly become extrasensory?"

He contemplated for a few moments before answering. "Well, if you want an example…last night, right before we fell asleep. I was practically praying that I could have a chance to feel your arms around me. When you hugged me, I thought I was conjuring up some sort of comforting hallucination. But I'm usually not one to have good dreams, so…it must have been real. I—I _wasn't _dreaming, was I?"

"No, you weren't," I said quickly, biting the inside of my lip as I felt an enriching warmth spread through my chest. I _had _been comforting to him, after all. He thought I was a _good dream_. It might have been silly to get excited over, but if my life had been a musical, now would be the time to break out into a pivotal, romantic song that would make old ladies cry in reminiscence and teens sing along in their bedrooms to their pillow-shaped 'boyfriends.' "I'm glad it was okay…I was hoping you weren't thinking I was trying to pull a Jessica."

He chuckled. "It was far better than okay."

I couldn't bite my lip hard enough—there came my smile. "Well…" _Tell him to turn over next time and we'll see how memorable we can make it, then. Or maybe—STOP SIGN!_

I instantly braked, squealing to a jerking stop, just in time to barely inch over the painted, white line on the road. _Dear God, this is just unhealthy. You need therapy. Or a vibrator. Perhaps both._ "Sorry," I mumbled, stealing a look at Edward, who had gripped the door with his hand. "You'll never drive with me again, will you?"

"I'll just have you write up a waiver for me to sign next time," he said, grinning, before tugging on his seatbelt. "At least your seatbelts held," he added lightheartedly.

I decided to banish my sassy voice to the back of my brain for a time-out, and we drove further into town before stopping at a local restaurant. While we were eating, I got a lot of stares and '_Aren't you Charlie Swan's little girl?'_ as if I was still wearing pigtails and a training bra, which was embarrassing, but it seemed to amuse Edward. I made a mental note to call Charlie and ask if he'd shown off my picture, or something, because it was beyond me how everyone recognized me _before _they knew my name.

When we finished, Edward went to the restroom and I walked outside, deciding to give Angela a quick call. "Good news?" came her hopeful voice, even before a hello.

I chuckled. "I knew I'd be scaring you off with my whining sooner or later," I answered, twirling a piece of my hair. "But if you're asking if Edward's speaking to me, the answer is yes."

"Well, thank _God_," she said, "because I was just about to call you and ask if you both would want to meet Ben and me at Peak's Pub. It's a bar up in Port Angeles, right off of Lincoln Street. There's some kind of wrestling match or man-hugging crap going on-"

I smiled as I heard Ben's voice call out, "It's the MMA fight, Ang. Mixed Martial Arts. It's not _man-hugging_."

"Well, it looks like that to me, anyway," she said, giggling. "And I was hoping to have a girl to talk to amidst all the hooting boys that will be around. Would you guys like to come hang out?"

"Yeah, sure. I can ask him," I said, wondering if Edward would be up for something like that. "What time are you going to go?"

"We're having dinner at Michael's, now," she said. "We should be done in an hour or so."

I told her I'd talk to Edward and call her back, hung up, and leaned against the side of the wall to wait for him to come outside. I knew there was more to be said, pertaining to Edward's past, but right now, he seemed so _content_. Maybe he _would _want to do something normal for a change, or be around people who wouldn't pry into his private life with meddling questions and curious stares, or attack him in a promiscuous craze and suck on his neck like a horny teenager. Not that I would be opposed to the opportunity of getting _my _lips back on his neck, as he seemed to be okay with me doing it earlier. Then again, _I_ wasn't Jessica Stanley, Skankwhore Extraordinaire.

The door to the restaurant swished open after a minute, and Edward walked out, his eyebrows knitted together in deliberation. "Everything okay?" I asked, and he turned toward me as I spoke, having not seen me right away.

"Oh, yeah," he said, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. I recognized that as one of his nervous movements, but he smiled at me, his face instantly clearing any evidence that he might have felt anything other than ease. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "I feel like I just woke up, and it's already getting dark. I can't even begin to think of what I'm going to do with myself when you start feeling tired."

"I'm not tired at all," I said honestly. "Do you feel like doing something else? I just got off the phone with Angela. She and Ben are in Port Angeles and are going to a bar called Peak's to watch some martial arts, man-hugging event or something. If you don't mind taking the drive up there, would you want to meet up with them?"

Edward raised his eyebrows curiously.

"I mean-we don't have to," I said quickly. "I wasn't sure if you wanted-I thought you might like to just…I don't know, do something different, or-but if you're not feeling up to it-"

"Easy, Bella," said Edward, looking entertained by my blabbering. "That sounds great. Just…Angela and Ben? As in Angela Weber and Ben, the paramedic who found my wallet? They know each other?"

I blinked, then realized that I'd never filled Edward in on the fact that my concussion had reunited the two, or even that they'd gone to high school together, and were now dating…or "sort of going out to different places together, sometimes," as Angela bashfully put it. "Tell you about it in the car?" I suggested.

The ride to Port Angeles took a bit longer than the first time we had gone, considering I missed a turn and had to ask Edward get me back on track, and the fact that my truck could barely get past fifty miles an hour without making strange noises. I put Edward in charge of the music, and he spent a few minutes flipping through my small book of CDs, grinning at the many rock bands that made appearances in the pages.

"Sorry, I don't have any Ludovico Einaudi," I said with a grin. "You'll have to burn me a copy so I can be as sophisticated as you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Yes, I'm so _classy_, Bella," he joked, slipping _Foo Fighters _into my CD player. "But if you'd like me to, I will." I held back from telling him that I'd probably wear out the entire CD within a month's time from nonstop playback.

We parked down the street from the bar, and actually ran into Angela and Ben as we rounded the corner.

"Hey guys," said Ben warmly, giving us a wave. We all exchanged hellos before Angela put her arm around me and led me in front of the guys, leaving them to talk behind us.

"Wow," said Angela in a hushed voice, gently nudging her elbow into my side. "Edward looks rather _nourished _today. What have you two been doing?"

_Spooning._

I laughed, instantly blushing. "Nothing," I answered. "Just talking." _A lot of talking. A little sleeping next to each other. Almost kissing. Fuck the almost._

"_Talking_," Angela repeated, turning back to presumably glance at Edward. "Well, he looks the best I've ever seen him. You know who he reminds me of?"

"One of those Greek mythology gods?" I said aloud, very accidentally. I whipped my head around to see if Edward or Ben had heard me; luckily, they were engrossed in their own conversation. Angela laughed and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the raucous bar.

"I was going to say the guy in the Redken for Men shampoo ad, but whatever you say," she giggled.

Peak's was brightly lit and swarming with loud voices and laughter from the surrounding patrons. As Angela predicted, it was packed with guys who were congregated at the bar and red-topped tables, all craning their necks in the direction of the televisions mounted on the different walls. The smell of fried food permeated the air, due to the endless baskets of chicken wings and onion rings that adorned almost every table. One smell that was missing was cigarette smoke; I supposed Washington had a smoking ban, but that was fine with me. I certainly didn't want anything to hinder Edward's vivifying scent if I somehow managed to find myself leaning close to him later on.

We picked a high table near the back, and I hung my purse and hoodie over the back of a chair, next to Edward's. I accidentally brushed my leg against his as I took my seat and let my breath out slowly.

_And there's that whirlwind of heat again._

I wondered if he felt the same ardent energy that I did every time we touched… He said nothing, but gave me a small smile that made my palms sweat, and then Ben started informing us all about the MMA fight that was coming on. Most of the information went over my head, but Edward seemed to understand every word coming out of Ben's mouth; I supposed men were just born with the ability to comprehend sports of all kind. Angela and I shared amused looks and made small talk until Ben suddenly turned his attention to me.

"So, Bella," Ben asked, wiggling his eyebrows. _Oh, God. _"Did I ever win that bet?"

I stared at him, tucking my bottom lip under my top one, and sighed softly. If my face wasn't already pink from my Greek mythology comment, it most likely was now. Growing up, I'd always wished for a sibling, and having Ben openly tease me was enough to let me experience what could have been. Edward and Angela exchanged a look and stared at us both in curiosity.

"As a matter of fact, no, you didn't," I said with a self-conscious smile, thinking that if Angela looked confused, that probably meant he hadn't spilled any of my ambulance-blabbering, either. Thank God. "So, that means _I_ win. Would you like to pay up now, or later?"

Ben creased his eyebrows in thought and gave Edward a quick glimpse before looking back at me. "Huh," he said, looking a bit puzzled. I almost snorted.

Angela and Edward concurrently asked, "What?"

"Don't you dare," I said quickly, before Ben could embarrass the hell out of both me _and _Edward.

"I won't, I won't," said Ben playfully, holding up his hands in surrender. "I guess I'll go get us some drinks, then." He stood up from the table and looked at Edward. "Want to come, man?"

Edward shrugged leniently and followed suit. "Sure."

"To celebrate your win, Bella, drinks are on me," said Ben. "What would you like?"

"Um…" I said, trying to think of what would be an easy, cheap drink. I really didn't want him spending a lot of money on me.

"Greek Sex on the Beach," Angela blurted out.

If I had already been drinking something, I would have spit it all over the table. I balked, and whipped my head in her direction. _Smirking little meddler. _I turned as red as the rosy tabletop.

"Get her one of those. I hear they're _amazing_," she continued, kicking my ankle under the table. I couldn't even bring myself to give her my 'Wtf?' face, as I had started to sputter with giggles. _Could you be more obvious, Bella? Pretend you don't understand!_

I nodded, biting back laughter. "Sure, that's fine."

The boys shared a glance, and then stared at us with identically confused, yet entertained expressions, before Ben asked, "What do you want, Ang?"

_Ha! Payback!_

"Get her a Frisky Benjamin," I said, before Angela could answer, keeping my eyes away from her face so I didn't burst into laughter, though I really struggled as Ben raised his eyebrows and asked, ever-so-seriously, "What's in _that_?"

I had no clue, as I had just made it up. Angela quietly squeaked from her seat, most likely losing her composure by the second.

"Um, SoCo, lime, and cranberry juice, I think," I spouted off the top of my head. I caught Edward's eye for a moment and he flashed me a smile, probably reading my mind, as always. I briefly wondered if he understood the connotation behind Angela's suggestion for _my _drink. Hopefully not.

Ben tapped the table with his hands. "All right, then," he said, and he and Edward left to go to the bar. I turned to Angela to find her with her hand pressed against her mouth, flushing pink, and as soon as we made eye contact, we both lost it, sounding like a pair of cackling, girly high-schoolers.

"Really, Angela? _Greek Sex on the Beach_?" I said, once I finally got myself under control.

She snickered. "At least _that's _a real drink!"

"How's it going with him, anyway?" I asked, leaning over the table and lowering my voice, though it was hardly necessary with a bunch of guys shouting around us.

Her eyes seemed to radiate with delight and she shrugged her shoulders shyly. "Um," she said, tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. Her cheeks were still flushing pink. "He kissed me tonight…so I guess that means everything's going well."

Inwardly, my sassy voice squealed, and I gave her a broad smile. "That's great," I said sincerely, fighting the impulse to let out a very high-pitched, very girly '_Awwww_.' "Man, I _knew _I should have turned that bet around on him."

"What is that about, anyway?" she asked. "Your face went beet-red when he said that."

"I figured as much," I said, and proceeded to tell her about Ben's prediction, that, unfortunately, hadn't come true. I also told her that we had been so close to kissing earlier, but were interrupted by Red Timber's own Teen Girl Squad…or, to put it more accurately, Middle-Aged Cougar Squad. I felt like such a middle-school girl since I was spilling my thoughts out so openly, but it was nice to have a girl friend to relate to.

"No wonder Ben looked surprised," she said, glancing over at the bar and back to me. "I can't believe you two haven't tied your tongues in little, sexy bows before now, anyway. I'm going to have to have a talk with that boy."

"What-you-_no_, you will _not_!" I sputtered.

She just smiled. Edward and Ben came back moments later, each carrying a bottle of what I assumed to be beer in one hand, and a cocktail in the other. Edward set the glass in front of me and moved his chair so he could sit down. I could have been mistaken, but it seemed that he had scooted it a bit closer to me, in contrast to where it had originally been. I tore my eyes away from him before he could notice me staring, and thanked Ben for the drink, trying not to appear too overjoyed.

Eventually, the "big fight" started, and it was nearly impossible to have a conversation, for all the men in the bar, including Ben, were grunting and hollering at the TV screens with dynamic enthusiasm. Angela sat back, seeming to enjoy observing her new man get so excited over the match, and would nod eagerly when he turned to her to explain about the "Flying Scissor Heel Hook" and a "Japanese Backpack" move. They were cute together.

Edward kept an eye on the screen, too, but he remained much calmer than the rest of the group, appearing happily relaxed. It was nice to see him without traces of anxiety in his eyes, for once.

As time passed, I realized that I had stopped watching the television, and was paying more attention to Edward. Just observing how condensation trickled over his fingers, and the way his lips touched the brim of the bottle whenever he took a drink… it was difficult for me to look away. I quickly found myself sucking down the cold, sweet cocktail in front of me to slow the rampant, sensual thoughts that flickered to life inside my head.

_Easy, girl. You're in public. This isn't a movie. All the lights aren't about to magically dim so you can rip each others' clothes off on this very table without anyone else noticing._

Though, throughout the night, I managed to find ways to touch him without being too obvious. Now and again, I would casually slide my arm across his to reach for a napkin, or graze his knee with mine as I hopped down from the tall chair whenever Angela and I went to the bathroom, or up to the bar to get everyone refills. Maybe it was the slightly warm, fuzzy feeling the alcohol brought, but I couldn't help but notice that when Edward rested his arm across the back of my chair, his knuckles would brush against my back, more often than not. The best was when he would lean over to say something close to my ear, and sinuously slide his hand around my waist, giving me the gentlest squeeze. Even though we weren't strangers to each other's contact, it was playfully fun. And I was loving it.

It was nearing midnight once the fight was over, and though most of the other people in the bar bought themselves another round, we all opted to call it a night. Angela was looking sleepy, and even Ben looked a bit heavy-eyed.

"Curse of the graveyard shift," Angela said with a bashful smile. "Our sleep schedules are completely messed up."

_How ironic._

On our way out, Angela pressed a little blue bead into my hand. "Bite down on that," she said softly, nudging my side gently. "Liquid mints. That way, you won't taste like alcohol." She giggled at the look on my face. "I _could _point you in the direction of La Push so you can have your Greek sex on the b-"

"I'm telling Doris you have a boyfriend whose midnight name is 'Frisky Pants Benj'-" I responded just as quietly, but she cut me off with a giggle, shushing me as Ben and Edward followed us outside where the volume significantly lower. After we said our goodbyes, Edward and I stood on the corner for a few moments, watching Ben and Angela walk away. I shuffled my shoe on the concrete and when I looked up at Edward, he gazed back at me with his tranquil eyes.

"I'm pretty sure I'm okay to drive," I said, knowing that the touch of wooziness left inside of me was probably _not _due to the Peach SoCo I'd consumed. I was intoxicated by something else entirely. "But would you mind waiting a few minutes, anyway?"

"No, I don't mind," Edward said quietly, and after a couple seconds, he held his hand out. "Would you like to walk for a bit? We're not too far from the water."

Instantly, I thought back to Angela's comment, and nearly every part of me warmed with unbridled yearning. _Calm yourself. He just wants to walk, not have an animalistic adventure amongst the waves!_

"Sure," I said, sliding my hand into his warm one. It was the first time I'd ever held onto him for a reason other than attempting to ease some sort of pain that he was going through; and as comforting as all the other caresses had been, I couldn't deny that I liked this feeling the most. I quickly popped the mint Angela had given me into my mouth, bit down, and blinked as an overwhelming vanilla-peppermint flavor burst over my tongue. Better safe than sorry.

We headed in the direction of the water, and I sighed lightly after interlocking my fingers with Edward's, enjoying the feeling of the comfortable entanglement. The air was cold and clear, and felt so crisp that I wished it was possible to take a bite out of it to really taste the singularity of autumn. Apricot-colored lights gave the water dock a serene ambiance, and I huddled close to Edward, wondering how he could stand walking around without a coat all the time. Maybe he was wearing more than one shirt.

_Slide your hand underneath and see._

My toe hit a raised board on the pier and I almost fell, but stabilized myself by grabbing onto a bench; well, that, and Edward's hand. He chuckled and steadied my shoulders. "Do I have to buy you a new pair of shoes?" he asked good-naturedly.

"More like a new pair of feet," I mumbled. _And a inner voice that doesn't participate in promiscuity._

"Come here," he said, taking a seat on the bench, and pulling me down next to him. I tensed at the chilly breeze and wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I had worn my black hoodie; at least _that _one didn't purposely have holey material that the wind blew straight through. I didn't think about it for more than a moment, because Edward intuitively put his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer to his body, instantly warming me from top to bottom. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, angling myself so I could cuddle up to his chest. "Thanks."

We sat silently for awhile, soaking up the atmosphere, and I realized that this was the first time I had actually seen the stars since I had arrived. _A cloudless night in Washington. You should take a picture. Renee would never believe you._

"Thank you for spending time with me tonight," Edward spoke lightly, breaking the silence. "It felt good to get out for awhile. I haven't done that in a long time…be with people, that is. It was nice."

I nodded against his chest. "I had fun, too."

"I wish I could adequately express how much it means to me," he said, his voice a perfect vocal against the symphonic swell of the distant waves. "I'm not sure you know…"

I bit my lip, as I leaned my head into his shoulder. "There's no need to thank me," I said. "I feel the same way, you know."

He moved his head and suddenly, I could feel his breath on my hair, the heat contrasting the chill of the wind. And if wasn't mistaken, I could smell traces of peppermint…had Angela slipped him a mint, too? _Sneaky girl. _"Could I pose a question? Or two, actually?" he asked, rubbing my arm gently.

_Ha. Tell him he can 'pose' whatever he'd like._

"Sure," I said, lifting my head so that I could see him.

"First," he said, with a smile, "_what _do you put in your hair?"

I automatically reached back and grabbed a handful of my hair insecurely, wondering if I'd gotten something in it, causing it to emanate some sort of odd smell. "Um…shampoo?" I answered unsurely.

Edward chuckled and pulled my hand down. "You always seem to think the worst of yourself," he said with an amused undertone. "Your hair nearly hypnotizes me. It's soft…it smells incredible."

"You should be speaking into a mirror," I said, laughing nervously, feeling my pulse speed up a bit. "But thank you. Just different shampoos my mom gave me. What was your other question?"

He gave me a mischievous grin. "I'm just curious…what kind of bet did you and Ben have going?"

_Oh, here it is. _"He didn't tell you?" I asked, figuring that Ben might have joked about it once they had left the table to get us drinks. Edward shook his head. I sighed and played with a piece of my hair. "That night in the ambulance, after you left to drive back to the lodge, Ben found it funny that you and I had only met two days ago because of the way we were looking at each other, or something. He said…" I sighed as I felt my heartbeat increase. There would be no going back now. "He said that he'd give it three days before we were joined at the lips. And I challenged it."

Edward smiled and looked down before glancing over at the boats and the reflecting starlight on the water. "Oh," he said melodiously. He reached up and raked his hand through his hair, making my pulse reach its maximum speed.

_Damn it, what is he _doing _to you?_

"Well," he said, finally looking back at me with his gleaming, emerald eyes. "I never thought I'd be so disappointed to hear you be right about something." My breath caught and I tried to laugh, but I was frozen, completely absorbed by his words and his eyes, and totally, utterly spellbound.

"You look so nervous," he almost whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

I exhaled shakily, managing a small smile, and reached up to take his unwavering hand. "You look so _calm_," I complained jokingly. "I wish I could keep _my _heart under control the way you can."

Edward laughed quietly. "Bella," he said simply, then turned my hand around and pressed it snugly against his chest. My mouth parted in surprise as I felt his heart pounding-_racing_-under my palm, matching my own heart rate, if not surpassing it. I gazed up at him, astonished by the fact, that under his collected exterior, he was actually nervous, or excited-maybe both-just being around _me_; I grew half-breathless by the tenderness swimming in his multifaceted eyes.

"You have an impressive poker face," I said, sliding my hand out from his and trailing my fingers up along his neck.

His eyes remained locked on mine. "I guess that's what happens at law school: obtaining a lawyer's expression," he said softly.

I wet my lips, pursing them in musing. "But I can see you, now," I said, brushing my fingers lightly along his jaw line and up to his cheek. "You're genuine. You're kind. You're exquisite…every bit of you is wonderful."

I watched as slight hesitation and insecurity flickered through his eyes, which I wasn't exactly shocked to see. I knew he didn't think of himself the way I described, but I was being honest, and I couldn't hide my feelings from him any longer, no matter how much they scared me. But then he surprised me by fluidly wrapping both arms around me, hugging me close. When I felt his thermal lips touch my forehead, I enfolded my hands behind his head, devotedly curling my fingers into his hair.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, tilting my chin so that our faces were even closer, then placed a kiss on my cheekbone, and I closed my eyes to fight the dizzying feeling that made my head swim so blissfully.

"You're the loveliest person I've ever met," he breathed, kissing right by the corner of my mouth. "God forgive me…"

And then, all the warmth that was mounting in my body doubled as he pressed his lips to mine in slow, perfect precision. The feeling of pleasure rushed all the way to my fingertips, and I reciprocated the pressure on his mouth, taking the time to savor the touch and sensation of his velvety lips. Edward sighed gently, moved his hand around to the back of my head, and pulled me closer, continuing the slow motion of molding his mouth to mine. We fit together flawlessly, and I let my hands begin to wander; they traced his shoulders and the contours of his back, and as his chest pressed against mine, I could hear my sassy voice screaming delightfully inside my head…

Or not. Something was ringing. A phone. And it wasn't mine.

We broke apart gradually, reluctantly, and stared down from where the sound was coming. I swallowed, feeling a little lightheaded, and looked at Edward. "That's not me," I said faintly, and he nodded.

"I know," he said, barely audible, and I moved back as he slid his hand into his pocket to remove his phone. He stared at the number, his face becoming serious, and then gave me a quick glance. "Excuse me," he muttered, before standing up and walking down the pier.

I played with the zipper on my sweater, feeling chilly again, and tried to keep my head stuck in the moment of finally knowing what it was like to be wrapped up in his arms and connecting in such a beautiful, physical way. But as I peeked at Edward, I couldn't help but sense that he wasn't just taking a friendly phone call. He spoke in near-whispers, far enough away that I couldn't make out the words, though, he mostly seemed to listen. I watched his movements, and my heart seemed to sink deeper into my chest by the second. The rough tugging at his hair; his fist viciously gripping a section of his shirt; brisk pacing…he was classically slipping back into the nervous motions that I'd pushed to the back of my mind, in the hope they wouldn't resurface for awhile.

When he finally hung up, he didn't turn toward me or make a move to walk back. Instead, he leaned against a pole and put his head in his hand, then turned so his back was to me. I stood up quickly, unsure if I should wait for him to turn around, or if I should go and make sure he was okay.

_Who are you kidding? Go to him!_

I cautiously walked down the pier, getting more anxious as I approached him. "Edward?" I said quietly, nervously gripping the bottom of my sweater. "Is everything all right?"

_Um, obviously, not! He doesn't exactly look ready to go to the circus, does he?_

I heard him exhale softly, and he turned to face me. My shoulders slumped as I realized that all of the sparkling hope and placating happiness had left his eyes. He had regressed back into a shaky, upset state and looked almost petrified. "Who-what's the matter?" I asked, reaching out and taking a hold of his arms. "Are you okay?"

"No," he said, reaching up to rub his eyes, then squeezing one of my shoulders gently. "I'm-I'm not feeling well. Do you think we could drive back?"

My stomach felt solid as I watched different emotions ebb and flow in his expression, and couldn't deny that he _did_, suddenly, _s_eem unwell, but I knew that couldn't be the exact truth. I stared at the phone in his hand, wanting to snatch it and chuck it into the water. Whoever had been on the other end-or whatever message he had received-was responsible for making him look so shaken, and it made me feel uncharacteristically angry and defensive for him.

"Yeah, we can," I answered, watching him hastily stuff his phone back into his pocket. "Are you…I mean, is it-?"

"It's nothing," he replied quickly, moving back toward the sidewalk and aggressively running his fingers through his hair. His gentle manner and pleasant voice had vanished; the brief reprieve, which he'd needed so much, was over, and he now appeared to be precariously holding himself together-probably for appearances' sake.

"Edward," I said, grabbing his hand, trying to stop him from running away from whatever had just happened.

"Bella, I said it's _nothing_." He gruffly removed his hand from mine and continued walking, only stopping to wait when I grabbed my purse from the bench.

I huffed under my breath, slighted by his terse tone. "Well, it must be something. I'm not an idiot, you know." He gave me a fleeting look of feeble guilt, and I gave the bench one last glance as we started walking again.

_Thanks for the memories. It's probably all I'm going to have for awhile; it was fun while it lasted. _I sighed. _Stop talking to the goddamned bench._

I matched Edward's quickened pace as we walked down the street, so that he didn't have to slow his stride on my account. As we got into my truck, I prayed to God that it wasn't going to have one of its random, bitchy problems that would keep it from starting. Mercifully, it roared to life with gusto, for once, and I began driving back, thankful that I recognized where I was going. Edward had pressed himself against the passenger door, leaning his head on the window, and was now staring vaguely through the glass; he didn't seem in the mood to be bugged for directions.

I mostly kept my eyes on the practically empty road, but couldn't keep myself from glimpsing at Edward every minute or two. He kept his eyes either closed or straight ahead, and didn't even look at me when I reached over and rubbed his arm when I noticed that his breathing had grown louder.

"Do you want me to pull over?" I asked, watching him brush a trembling hand over his face and through his hair.

He shook his head, and subtly, but not enough that I didn't notice, pulled his body away from my hand and closer to the door. A raw twinge of rejection made my entire chest ache, and I reluctantly clasped my steering wheel with both hands. All of the vibrant energy that was usually between us was dwindling, fizzling. He was desperately trying to put up a wall, and I had no idea why. After everything he had said…after what had just happened between us…didn't he trust me by now?

I wanted to ask him who had been on the phone, and why he was so distressed. I wanted to tell him to just _talk _to me instead up clamming up and folding into himself. And I wanted to tell him there was a bottle of Tylenol in my glove compartment, because the way he was cradling his head made me wonder if he'd gotten some kind of spontaneous migraine. But then, he looked over and frowned.

"Can you _not _look at me like I'm going to unravel, please?" Edward said sharply, releasing his forehead and tucking his arms around his waist.

I sighed brusquely, tired of being snapped at, and looked straight ahead. I pressed my foot down harder on the gas pedal, not even caring how much my engine would groan and clank. As much as I wanted to slow down, pull over, smack him for being mean, and force the fucking answers out of him, I knew that he was hurting. He'd told me several times that he was good at driving people away…I just wished it didn't have to be me.

One step forward, two steps back. Push, pull; hot, cold. Always so close, and yet so far away.

But if I had anything to say about it, I wasn't going to let him sever everything we'd worked for. He could shove me away, but I wasn't about to let go.

-:-

**Okay…who hates me for the ending? Hands? I kind of hate me, too. But can I ask everyone to trust me? Please? *Goes to hide under my covers***

**I've got one song for you: "Everlong" by Foo Fighters. I found my old CD the other day and literally squealed!**

**My roommate's boyfriend is all about MMA. Dave, if you ever read this, consider this your little shout-out. Thanks for the info. Even though I don't think I had a choice in the matter, as you made me look up all those videos of Forrest Griffin and Georges St. Pierre on YouTube, you weirdo. ;)**

**I know people may be asking me, "When are you updating?" as I got a scary amount of questions like that over the last 2 weeks…the answer is as soon as the next chapter's complete! Blame my work schedule. It's been especially heinous. While you're waiting, check out **_**Type O Negative **_**by quothme. Awesome little gem of a story that I couldn't stop reading. It's hysterically witty, dramatic in all the right places, and brilliantly sweet. Bella rocks in this one. For those who think **_**my **_**Bella is funny-check out hers. I heart this one. You will, too.**

**You all should know by now how much I love you all to little, pretty pieces. Thanks, everyone :D**


	18. Blame Takes Two Shapes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But, thanks to my beta, I now own Carlisle…in the form of a teddy bear. Yes. Laugh if you must, but you **_**know **_**you want one, too. **

**I'm a jerk and completely forgot to thank Lua1989 for making me a second banner. I heart you, my dear, and I'm so sorry I am scatterbrained and didn't say so sooner!**

**Thanks to all for all the reviews and messages that warm my heart and give me the fuel to keep this going; and this one took a lot of my emotional energy! So did the next one. I've been writing 19 along with this chapter, so that's why it's taken me so long to update. 19 should be done soon *crosses fingers* Just a warning for those who accuse me of breaking their hearts: come back in two more chapters; things will be a little brighter. Just sayin'. ;)**

**I'm half delirious at the moment from lack of sleep, so forgive me if there are any errors in here--it's not my beta's fault; I was in a hurry to put this out and she's a saint for putting up with me.**

-:-

At least ten minutes had gone by since I'd driven Edward and myself back to the lodge. I hadn't even turned off my ignition before Edward mumbled an abrupt, "Don't. Just _don't_," before jumping out of my truck and stalking to the lodge's door. I sat, frozen and baffled, with my hand still gripping my keys. I hadn't said anything--I hadn't even _looked _at him.

_Don't? Don't do what? Follow you? Get out of my truck? Don't bother because you want to deal with this shit storm all by yourself?!_

During the ride back, his silence and glaring eyes had done nothing but fuel me with determination; I knew I couldn't force him to tell me what was wrong, nor would I push him to if he honestly didn't want to tell me. But I was too stubborn to sit back and _watch _everything go to hell around him. I would just be there, if he'd let me. When he was ready to talk and would permit me to listen, then I'd be waiting. And I'd been about to tell him that as soon as my truck stopped, but, ever the mind reader, he mumbled his answer and walked away, disappearing into the lodge without a single look, and leaving me sitting in the cabin of my truck.

All the tenacity that had filled me during the ride back had drained halfway after that, and I succumbed to the empty, dark seats, unable to find the drive to follow him. In the end, I felt confused, apprehensive, and powerless; I always seemed to be a good mixture of pathetic when it came to moments like this.

Time passed as I leaned my head against the cold glass of my truck's window, narrowing my eyes to watch the pane fog from the heat I provided. It wasn't warm inside my truck anymore, but the feel of the chill against my head felt nice--calming, even. At least _something _did. After awhile, I sat up and watched the little hazy cloud slowly diminish, then quickly blew my breath upon it, stopping it from disappearing completely. When a bigger, vaporous circle had formed, I pressed my fingers on each side to dot two, little "eyes," then paused as my finger froze before I could form a mouth.

As a child, the faces I drew were always happy. Just one quick U-shaped swoop, and all was well. As I grew older and somewhat juvenile, tongues would snake out of the smiles, or jagged eyebrows would emphasize a crazy face. Now, I couldn't bring myself to give the face a grin; it would be a lie. I didn't want to give it a frown, either; that would feel too dismal. So, I waited, and the two lonely eyes seemed to watch me with expectation as the circle began to disappear; the cold soaked up the heat like a sponge, and the empty face remained expressionless until it had faded into nonexistence.

_Don't let that happen--not tonight, anyway. Go find him._

I sighed and put my head down on the steering wheel, hesitantly raising my eyes to peer at the front door of the lodge. Trying to talk to Edward would either make things better or worse, but I knew I couldn't stay out here all night. I grabbed my purse and grudgingly opened the door, and hopped down to the rocky ground.

Once I was inside, I gave the lobby a once-over. It was dark, quiet, and empty; even the sofa that I'd previously hid myself on was vacant. I made the long climb to the fourth floor, thinking that Doris should post ads in the local paper next to the fitness classes that the lodge had its own personal-built Stairmaster. I unlocked my door only to blindly toss my purse inside, then walked to Edward's room and knocked before I lost my nerve. I waited, but there was no answer, no sounds, and no response of any kind.

"Edward?" I called, nervously tapping my nails against my jeans. "Will you come out, please?"

Still nothing. I pleaded quietly, eventually asking him to just knock on the wall so I knew he was even inside, but no such knock came. No footsteps, no shuffling, no running water…just haunting silence. I put my back against the door and blew my breath out, knowing there was nothing else I could do except break down the door, but I wasn't about to go all Jack Torrance just because he wanted to lock himself away from everything.

_Space. He needs space. Not smothering._

I could hardly think about going to bed. I wasn't the least bit tired, and even if I tried to sleep, I'd be tossing and turning all night, wondering what in the hell had come from the phone call he'd taken. Dragging my feet, I descended the staircase and twisted my hair around my finger in a mindless daze, shuffling over the steps as they carried me to the third floor…second floor…first. I wondered if the kitchen was unlocked; I could brew myself some coffee, or hot chocolate, or if I really wanted to ease my tension, I could prep the entire kitchen for breakfast and save Tom the trouble. I smiled halfheartedly when I pictured him walking into his kitchen to see me, dicing vegetables and organizing ingredients like I owned the place. I wondered if, one of these days, I could finagle his legendary sweet potato pie recipe out of him…

I walked through the lightly glowing café, and just as I was about to head into the dark kitchen, I heard a sound and stopped. I shifted my eyes and glanced over my shoulder, remaining silent, and waited to hear it again. It was so faint, almost inaudible, but it came again in little beats. Notes. Music.

I glanced at the Entertainment Hall; its double-doors were shut, but the soft, mellow sound wasn't a recording playing throughout the lobby. It was the piano, and I felt gooseflesh spread across my arms as I realized that Edward must be the person responsible for the melody. It was so simple, yet I never thought that he might have gone anywhere but his own room. Maybe the auditorium was second best.

_Well, you can go play Julia Child, or you can go in there and play…Intervention. _I supposed I could wait until he came out and ask him to sit and talk, bribing him with coffee. _Yes, because _bribing _him is the way to fix this, brainiac._

I took a deep breath and walked to the Entertainment Hall, opening and closing my fists like the nervous wreck that I was as I reached for the door. I closed my hand around the cool, brass doorknob and twisted it slowly, pulling it open with caution, the door only emitting the slightest creak as I peeked my head inside. The hall was dark and shadowy, except for the large, crooked rectangles of reflected light from the long windows, which spread across the hardwood floor, reminiscent of wraithlike carpet runners. Beyond the illumination, in the far corner, was the piano. Edward was sitting on the small bench, slouched to one side with his head on his arm, his other hand arbitrarily pressing down on the keys. He hadn't heard me.

The sliver of faint, waxen light that had filtered into the room spread as I opened the door further, which groaned audibly and gave me away. Edward whipped his head toward me and, though I couldn't really make out the look on his face, my cheeks burned intensely, as though he had shot me a menacing glare. We stared at each other for a few moments, and then he turned back to the piano and put his head down again.

_Well, at least he didn't tell you to leave him alone…yet._

Uncertainly, I stepped into the chilly space; apparently, it wasn't heated as well as the rest of the lodge--at least not while it was vacant. I shut the door behind me, which emitted an echoing click throughout the large room. Physical barriers I could take care of easily; it was the ones I couldn't see that were tricky. I walked toward him carefully, frowning at my soft footsteps because this common area had transformed into foreign territory--_his _territory, and I was intruding.

I stopped a few feet away from him, tucking my hands behind my back so they wouldn't overstep their bounds and grasp his shoulders. Swallowing the apology that was tickling my tongue, I said, "I just wanted to see if you were okay. I know you said not to, but I…"

I watched his hand move over the ivory and black keys, but he didn't continue playing like he had been. He sighed and eventually tucked his hand under his head, looking like a middle school kid who was told to put his head down on his desk for being too obnoxious.

"I don't know, Edward. I can't just go upstairs and not care," I continued quietly, shifting my weight nervously and shuddering a bit from the chill. "I feel like I should be sorry, but for what, I'm not sure."

He seemed to be breathing normally, and remained still and quiet, so I all but tiptoed to the side of the bench and finally got a look at his face. Edward's eyes traveled to mine for a split second, but that was all I needed to see that he wasn't angry anymore. Instead, he appeared lost…just _done_. I must have looked too sympathetic, or something, because he slowly sat up straight and rested his forehead on his hand, shielding his eyes.

"You know, I wish my face wasn't so readable," I said quietly, stepping closer to him. "I always try my best to seem okay when I'm not, but almost everyone seems to sense that I'm putting up a front. I'll bet you wish the same."

He didn't look up, and I figured he wouldn't answer, so I kept speaking. "My friends used to ask me to talk to them--always at the worst moments, when I could barely keep enough of my composure to smile and decline." I took a breath and tugged at a piece of my hair, hoping that I was on the right track. "I didn't want to talk. I was too afraid of opening my mouth and having my secrets spill out like some kind of hazardous mess, exposing me and contaminating them, too. So, I'd say no, and tell them that I was fine. And, eventually, they would walk away."

Slowly, I sat on the very edge of the piano bench, barely keeping my balance. I didn't want to invade his space anymore than I already had.

"But sometimes, I wished they would have stayed," I said, gripping the side of the bench so I wouldn't fall. "Not to talk…just to sit. Just so I knew that someone was there, to feel that someone cared enough to _be _with me."

Tentatively, I placed my hand on his back, which was stiff with tension. "Edward, you don't have to talk to me. You don't even have to look at me. But if you want me to sit with you, and _only _sit, just tell me, and I will. And if you want me to leave you alone, you don't have to say anything. I'll go."

I looked away, then, suddenly timorous, and stared at the floor by our feet, just by the piano's foot pedals. Protracted seconds went by like a failing heartbeat, and I guardedly pulled my hand away from his back. His breath came in and out in a gentle rhythm, and he brought his hand away from his face, granting me another look at his wounded expression. He worked his hands against one another and pursed his pouting mouth, then screwed his eyes shut with a heavy sigh.

_He wants you to go. I think. But maybe…just wait._

I waited for another few moments, feeling the flimsy film inside my chest--whatever was holding me together--begin to split in a slow, chilling tear.

_Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven._

This wasn't a countdown to calm me; this was one that was going to _cause _me to cry.

_Six. Five. Four._

Edward seemed to become more solid with every second. His eyes were fixed to the shadowed keys of the piano, and his hands were only barely shaking. He was securing himself--locking himself up so that no one could reach him.

_Three. Two._

I prayed for him to move, to glance in my direction, or to sigh in resignation and reach out so that I could hold him. But he didn't.

_Goodbye, almost. Hello, never._

My reluctant hands gradually pushed me up from the bench. I righted myself carefully so I wouldn't do something ridiculous, like fall backwards, or crash into the piano keys and create my own Isablunder Swan Symphony.

_One. What else did you honestly expect?_

I took a quiet breath and tried to ignore the horrible, strange pressure against my sternum. My hand trembled as I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Goodnight," I murmured, squeezing gently.

_Or goodbye. He's probably going to be gone by the morning._

Pulling away was similar to peeling my fingers off something to which they'd been super-glued. Somehow, I managed to extract my hand from his shirt and turned toward the doors. I felt guilty, discarded, and despondent all at once--I was leaving him alone when he was clearly upset, but he didn't want my reassurance, or any of my words. He didn't even want my presence.

And as much as I tried, I didn't understand anymore.

I took a few steps, and then, my imagination conjured up something cruel: a final, little twist of the knife in my heart.

"Wait."

_And now you're having auditory illusions and hearing what you want to hear. Great. Maybe you should drive yourself to the hospital and see if Dr. Cullen can give you another neurological exam. Perhaps a repellent to ward off all men and save yourself any future trouble._

"Bella, wait," came the sad, but beautiful voice. Edward's voice. I started to think that my head was getting oddly proficient at perfecting the sound, but when I heard an unexpected, hitched breath come from behind me, I reconsidered. I stopped and peered over my shoulder to see Edward turned toward me, anguish eclipsing his bright eyes, and looking tragically hopeless.

He straddled the bench, lowering his gaze to the floor and folding his arms, digging his fingernails tightly into his cotton shirt. "_Please_," he breathed. "Please, stay."

I was half-frozen again, caught in a web of weakness. I was afraid to do _anything_, in fear it would be the wrong move. _Stay. He said stay. Maybe you should just sit on the floor. But _look _at him…_

I was relieved that he wasn't choosing to push me away again, but I couldn't stand the sight of him clawing his own body; it made my stomach ache. I could barely feel my feet as I walked back to him, unsure how much distance I should keep. When I was close enough to touch him, I hesitated to sit beside him and looked toward the window instead.

_You've gone far enough tonight…just sit on the window ledge until he tells you that you can--_

The room spun, suddenly, and within the next second, my eyes weren't on the window, but the opposite wall. My feet were no longer touching the ground, either. And I wasn't cold anymore. Edward had grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, crushing me against his chest and burying his face in my shoulder. I sat, stunned, exhaling quickly and moved to wrap my arms around him…then realized that I already had. My fingers found the base of his neck and I squeezed gently, sliding my hand up and letting his thick hair flood through my fingers.

I tried to speak, but my mouth opened and closed liked a fish struggling for oxygen. Words felt so insubstantial; all I could do was hold him and try to keep my head from spinning. The back-and-forth whiplash of emotions were so confusing…and I couldn't say anything, because I had no idea what he was thinking.

And then I realized something that made my blood run cold. He was _crying_. My neck was wet and he was trembling unstably, sniffling quietly and clinging to me as though _maybe_, in some way, if he held me long enough, he might feel better. His whole being was incredibly tender, but he was like fire, searing and melting through all the relief I had left with his tears.

"Edward," I spoke, at last. My mouth was against his shoulder, and my muffled voice was hardly perceptible. "What's the matter? Won't you tell me?"

Edward sighed into my shirt, a little puff of heat against my skin, and my own traitorous eyes tingled threateningly as his breath caught in his throat. I clutched him tighter, and kept stroking his hair, hoping to soothe any of the overwhelming pain that he was in. Ultimately, he pulled back, and before he could hide his face, I held both of his cheeks, brushing away the damp tears that still lingered on his light skin.

He didn't meet my eyes, and only moved to press his balled hands against his eyes. "You'll hate me."

"I won't," I replied, gently sliding my hands down to rest on his neck.

"You will."

"I couldn't if I tried."

His breath hissed through his teeth and he fisted his hands into his hair, pulling and twisting with a bothered might. I couldn't stand it; I reached up and ran my fingers underneath his grasp, gently nudging the strands of hair out of his fists.

"Stop," I whispered. "You're hurting yourself."

He seemed ashamed, yet angry again, and he looked away as another tear streamed down his cheek before he roughly brushed it away. I shifted and scooted closer so I could lay my head against him, putting one arm behind his back, and gently caressing his chest. I wanted to hurt and kill--_destroy _everything and anything that had ever hurt him--whatever had broken him to such a horrible degree. He didn't deserve such pain day after day; it agonized _me_, and I was just the spectator.

"Selfish." Edward's voice came suddenly, hoarsely, and I opened my eyes, wondering who or what he was defining. I pulled back so I could explore his beautiful, shaded eyes, but he smoothed my hair and pressed his face against the top of my head before I could understand what he meant.

"I'm_ so _selfish," he repeated, speaking into my hair and cupping his hands around my cheeks. "And I'm sick, Bella. I'm wretched, tainted, and nothing but an embittered murderer."

My head shook in disagreement under his hands, but Edward pulled my head further into his chest and clung to me in what felt like desperation. "No, I _am_," he said, sounding as though something was constricting his throat. "I am, because I've already chosen to be."

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel them narrowing in confusion. I tried to speak, but little sounds of barely-formed words got stuck in my throat, making me sound like a skipping record. I had to determinedly push myself away from his fixed arms just to give our chests a few inches of space, but managed to tilt my head back enough to see him.

"That doesn't make any sense," I nearly squeaked, unable to find my solid voice.

"I never, ever meant to shoot Justin," he said miserably, turning away from me. "But I _will _end up killing someone."

I took his face in my hands again, unsure if he meant that metaphorically. "What--_why_? Where is this coming from?" _Where do you think? His phone, stupid. _I remained silent for a few seconds, and rubbed his arms while I waited for him to answer. Just as I was about to ask why he had completely crumbled after taking that phone call, he spoke.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked before." His voice was painfully cautious, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was trying to find a way around this, whatever _this _was, but was failing completely. "You haven't wondered why I was here in the first place?"

It was _only _the question that circled in my mind the most! "Of course I did," I said faintly. "There never seemed to be a good time to bring it up. I was afraid I'd upset you."

"Right," he said, sounding slightly cynical, but I was fairly sure it was meant more for himself than me. He inhaled and only met my eyes for a second before looking down again. "I left Chicago because I couldn't do my job anymore. I was distracted and useless; no one was going to accept a lawyer who'd been accused of third degree murder, anyway. I had no business being there, and I didn't have any family left, so I figured I'd have to find something else. But it didn't take me long to realize that I had another job to do."

"What job?"

Edward pressed his lips together so hard, I could see the blood leave them, his white skin almost shining in the shadows. I slowly pulled my hands back, because a chilly recognition was already churning in my nervous stomach, and I couldn't help but speculate.

"Oh," I murmured, and he darted his gaze to my face, searching my expression for understanding. I stared back, knowing my eyes were probably huge. "You mean, you…?"

He swallowed, looking ill, and I narrowed my eyes to the moonlit windows, unable to see the parking lot--only trees. _No…but, it makes sense. Don't you dare accuse anything you're not sure of… _But my mouth didn't listen to my mind.

"It's a gun, isn't it?" I asked, feeling my palms sweat and chills run through my body in chorus. "In your car? That case…it's--"

But I didn't have to continue, and he didn't have to answer, because it was already clear. I bit my bottom lip, trying to think of what to say. He stayed silent. My thoughts raced, and it only took me a few moments to start piecing things together. Not that I ever thought that it was the real reason, but he wasn't exactly _vacationing _in the rainiest town in the corner of the U.S. for the hell of it. He was out for vengeance.

I cleared my tightening throat. "You're planning on killing…?"

"Whoever was responsible for their deaths, yes," he answered so quietly, I almost didn't hear him. We sat like ghosts--hushed, unmoving, barely breathing--and it was only the sound of the wind that finally broke me out of my daze. I tried to take a silent breath, but it was shuddery and louder than I meant. Edward finally spun himself to face the piano again and looked away from me. "You can leave," he whispered into the empty air on his opposite side. "I wouldn't blame you. And I promise I won't follow you."

I didn't move--I wouldn't have, even if my feet hadn't felt cemented to the hardwood floor or I could actually manage to peel my stare off the bench. Eventually, out of the corner of my vision, I saw Edward turn back to me.

"You should see your face," he whispered miserably. "I never wanted to be the one to make you look like that."

I tried to soften my expression; I willed my forehead to alleviate its creases and tried to stop chewing on the inside of my lip, but my face felt solid. Ultimately, I lifted my head and met his eyes, analyzing him closely.

"You would never do something like that," I said, barely audible.

"I _would_, Bella," he said hoarsely. "It's the only thing that's kept me going this long."

My head started to ache, rushing with questions. "How could you be sure you'd ever find the right person?"

"The guy who called me tonight, Carson, is a friend--a colleague of sorts," he mumbled as he rested his head on his hand. "He's a law enforcement officer; we used to collaborate on criminal cases. He's a part of a search team…he's been letting me know where other murders have taken place. And this _guy_, this killer--he's scattered himself all over the map. I've been tailing the police--the last murder was over a month ago, in Hoquiam, just south of here. All of a sudden, the trail just went cold--not that it surprised me. The trail _always _goes cold."

He turned to me then, his eyes newly blazing with an odd intensity. "Whoever's done this has been _flawless_. The bastard leaves no fingerprints, no footprints, no DNA of any kind. And the way he does it--it's sickening. I don't see how forensics hasn't been able to pick up a _single _piece of evidence with the way this guy tears into people and completely cleans them out."

My insides felt as though they were squirming and I swallowed thickly. I must have looked appalled, because as quick as Edward's eyes had changed before, his expression swiftly softened, and his shoulders slumped as he twisted, facing forward again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this," he said, sounding apologetic as he raked his hand through his hair.

I suddenly realized that I had given my lip a break and was now nervously grinding my teeth against my thumbnail. I stopped biting, though I kept my fist tight as I put my hand back in my lap. "Cleans them out?" I repeated. "Do you mean he steals their organs?" I felt my stomach lurch a bit as I said it.

Edward just shook his head. "No. It's so bizarre. He leaves them without blood. Rumors fly that it's some sort of satanic-ritual maniac…but every once in awhile, someone is found just brutally slashed into, or completely destroyed. As though they didn't feel like doing their scheduled blood-sucking…like, instead, they just wanted to _play_. Like they did with--"

He stopped, his throat bobbing slightly and his voice catching. _Like they did with what? Who? _My heart pounded heavily in my chest, and then nearly burst apart as I realized that the look on his face was equivalent to utter grief. Had someone done that to one of _his _parents, or both? Not that either scenario was somehow less horrifying, but just made everything seem so morbidly _sick_. I thought that Edward might unravel right in front of me again, but he composed himself quickly, clearing his throat, and saying, "Anyway, tonight, Carson called to tell me they caught someone in Minneapolis."

My eyes widened. "They did?" I was too far gone to say anything that was useful. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. "So…what does that mean? I mean, what are you going to do?"

"Go," he replied.

_Go?_

"G-go?" I repeated my thoughts. "What--you can't expect to just walk up and--_kill _him…"

Edward sighed, rubbing his eyes forcefully. "I'm aware of that."

"Then how--?"

"It's nothing for you to be concerned about," he said abruptly. "And I know it makes me sound insane. In a way, I suppose I am."

I shook my head and glanced at our feet; I was still sitting astride the bench, and my right ankle was touching his foot. I tried to envision the situation from his point of view, and my thoughts became a dizzying mess. No wonder he was so shaken.

"Edward…if someone did that--if someone _murdered _my parents…" I trailed off, swallowing the knot that was forming in my throat. When I looked up, he had fixed his eyes elsewhere. "If I ever came face to face with the person who killed them, and someone handed me a gun and told me to have my revenge, I'm almost certain that I wouldn't hesitate. I'd probably crave to watch the life drain out of their eyes, and I'd enjoy it because of what they took from me.

"But that's not the way it works," I continued weakly. "I can't even begin to understand how bad you're hurting, but there are other ways to deal with this. I mean, of course it's not something that can just be forgotten, but…"

"Oh, and I suppose that, next, you're going to say that this survivor's guilt I'm carrying around can 'be turned into healing through _forgiveness_?'" he said callously. "Or that maybe I should call on my _personal faith _to get me through it? Do you think I haven't heard that already?"

I looked away from him slowly, feeling the urge to pull my knees to my chest; I would have if I was wasn't straddling a piano bench. And I hadn't been about to say exactly that, but I could only imagine how many people had told him such a thing before--maybe priests or co-workers…I wasn't sure.

"You killed someone by _accident_, and look how it's affected you," I pressed, even though my stomach was flipping wildly. I was in unfamiliar waters, and could only make sense of so much. "You can barely talk about it, let alone think about it--how do you expect to kill someone purposely? How do you think you're going to cope with _that_?"

"I have no idea," he said. "I don't really care what happens after that."

"What do you mean, you don't _care_?"

"I mean just that," he said tiredly. "If I actually find him, he'll either kill me or I'll kill him. If I'm dead, then that's it. And if he dies, I'll be in jail and won't be able to help anything. Either way, I won't care."

I stared at him with a frozen expression of disbelief, eyeing him up and down. "You don't _care_," I plainly repeated. He shook his head, still staring straight ahead, refusing to look at me. "If you don't care, then why are you shaking?"

Edward looked down at his trembling hands and wrung them together in a tight grasp. "Because I never wanted you to hear this."

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "And?" I said, waiting for him to tell me the rest of the truth. I didn't miss the way his chest was beginning to rise and fall in a rapid pace. If it had been an hour earlier, I would have been far more concerned, but at the moment, he was actually helping me prove my point, so I didn't move to comfort him.

"And what?" he said stubbornly, gripping a part of his shirt in his hand as he finally looked up at me. He was trying his best to look intimidating, but he couldn't lie through his eyes this time. He had to be exhausted from taking his mental mask on and off so frequently. "There's nothing else to say."

"Bullshit," I said, though it was hardly a whisper. I _hated _to watch him deteriorate so quickly, and I couldn't hold back any longer from scooting closer and sliding the back of my fingers over his cheek. "Look at yourself. You're terrified. All we're doing is talking about it, and you can't even catch your breath."

"I made this decision a long time ago," he muttered. "I can't sit and do nothing. He's killed _so _many people."

"But you said he's been taken in, right?" I said. "He'll be charged. The best thing you could do is testify, or--"

Edward cut me off. "He deserves worse than prison. Besides, I'm not sure if the guy they caught is the one or not. People are sick, Bella. There have been two copycats before. I need to make sure."

I sat quietly, pressing the balls of my feet into the floor until they started to shake from the pressure. "So, you're going to leave for Minneapolis?" I asked. "And if it isn't the guy you're looking for, then what will you do?"

"What I did here," he replied, giving me a glance. "I'll find somewhere to stay and wait until I get another call."

He was so adamant. I lowered my eyes, only because I was afraid that he would think I was staring at him piteously. The truth was, he'd been alone--_so alone _in this whole mess, and his self-worth was so minimal that he figured he had nothing to do except seek out the responsible party, no matter how dangerous or ludicrous it seemed.

"And if it _is _the right man…you're going to try to shoot him?" I knitted my eyebrows together, hoping to hear him say differently, even though I knew it was already true.

"You finally understand, don't you?" he asked quietly. "Can you honestly argue with me now? Tell me I'm not a murderer when I'm so determined on becoming one?"

I shook my head, then spoke to clarify. "You're _not_. You haven't done anything wrong. But if you'd choose to go that path, then you're destroying your life--and you're worth it, even if you don't think so. It's not your responsibility; don't you see that? And, think of your parents…"

_Oh, no. Back up. Take it back, quick. _But Edward didn't react; he kept still, though he was still subtly trembling. _Just say it. You've gone this far._

"I know that I never knew your parents," I said carefully, feeling dizzy due to the delicate ground I was treading on. "And I'm sure that they loved you--so much, it's not possible to express. Can you honestly imagine that _this _is what they would have wanted you to do?"

For a brief moment, I thought about moving away from him in case he was going to give me a nasty glare and start to yell that _I _didn't know anything, and should mind my own fucking business, even if he _did _just confess everything to me.

"I don't know what else to do."

His answer was simple and calm, which I was not expecting, yet miserable, and he sounded wholly weighed down. He sighed despairingly, and I watched him rub his eyes, which never seemed to be without fatigue, no matter how much sleep he'd gotten.

"You could talk about it more, for a start," I said weakly. It was a poor suggestion, but I was grasping at straws. "It's not the answer, I know that, but it's something."

Edward chuckled mirthlessly, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. When he looked back at me, he raised his hands carelessly before letting them fall to his lap. "Bella, what do you want to hear? That, normally, I can't get through a day without feeling so sick that I hardly eat, or that I only sleep when my body crashes, because I'm terrified to close my eyes? That I have to hold myself together everyday, hoping I won't go to pieces if I see someone with my mother's haircut or if someone, God forbid, calls me 'son' out of habit? That this whole fucking mess has left me in utter ruin? There. There it is."

Now, _my _hands were the ones that were shaking, and just as I moved to tuck them behind me to hide my fragility, he wrapped both of them in his own hands. "And that the only time it's ever stopped long enough to make me feel whole again is when I'm around you?"

My heart, that felt as though it was sinking like an anchor, began to beat irregularly, and my blood was a mixture of a heated, yet ice-cold rush. I was half a step away from losing my composure, and to hear him say something like _that _pushed me that much closer to sobbing. "Me?" I asked quietly, suddenly questioning how I could have ever helped him to feel better, because at the moment, I felt almost completely hollow.

"You distracted me," he said, culpability consuming his features. "I didn't understand how someone I didn't know could have such an effect on me. I just wanted to be around you. I figured it was some sort of impractical infatuation, and that I would just grow insensitive, as usual; and I kept telling myself that _tomorrow_, I would leave you alone."

He sighed and pulled me close again with one arm, resting his other hand on the back of my head. "I never expected to feel so…" he whispered, combing his fingers through my hair. "This is uncharted. I have no idea what I'm doing."

He had no idea what _he _was doing? I couldn't even _move_, let alone find the right words to say--to tell him that he'd somehow, even in his derelict state, managed to pour life into my empty, black hole of a heart, and alleviated the insecurities that I'd tried to hide from everyone--how he had _changed _something inside me, and he didn't even know it.

"I don't even deserve to be touching you," Edward muttered before releasing me hastily, probably reading my silence as my way of saying _'get off me_.' He fumbled with the hem of his shirt before looking back at me, studying my face with concern. "God, Bella, aren't you angry with me?"

I knew why he was asking. He expected me to be upset with him for implying that I was a distraction. But we were more similar than he knew.

"No," I answered, now understanding why he felt so self-demeaning. "I don't think our explanations could be more identical. Except I didn't try to make myself to stay away from you…I was too selfish for that."

He shook his head. "No. You weren't."

"Yes, I was," I whispered, feeling the all-too-familiar ache begin to foster in my chest. It was so surreally raw, talking about such complicated feelings and digging through the thorns that kept our paths from being clear. "I can't regret it, though. I can't even try to. Not even one second…do you?"

His beautiful face was so conflicted, and I thought I would break in two if I heard him say yes. After a few agonizing moments, I unexpectedly realized that he wasn't thinking about the time we'd spent together--if he was remorseful about anything, it was causing _me _to be upset. "Stop," I finally said, grabbing his hands. "Stop worrying that you're hurting me--to _hell _with me. Think about _yourself _for once. You need to help yourself, understand that there are other ways to deal with this--"

"I can't help myself do anything," he muttered. "I should have gotten professional help, or therapy, or something, but I never did. I needed it, but I didn't _want _it. And, now, it's too late. Once and for all, I'm broken."

My entire jaw felt as though it was vibrating as I clenched my teeth, trying to keep from exposing my chaotic emotions. "It's not too late," I managed to say, accidentally biting down on my tongue and cringing at the pain.

"Please understand, my decision has nothing to do with you. I just want to end it," he continued. "I want to end him, and end my pain. I don't care. If I die in the process, then so be it--I'll be numb, finally."

He wasn't hearing me; either that, or he was choosing not to. He was blind to the fact that there might be a way to fix this. My fingers were kneading his hands, anxiously working against his for something to grasp. "I'm…" I started, trying to stop sounding so shaky. "I'm so sorry that this happened to--"

"Don't be sorry," he said, almost pleading. "Everyone is always _sorry_. It changes nothing."

We both solidified after that, and our hands went to our own laps, our feet moved apart, and we sat on opposite sides of the bench. The air was cold and empty, and my eyes grew heavier as time went by. Hours could have passed, for all I knew, and I even noticed that the reflected, moonlit shapes on the floor had shifted slowly while Edward and I sat, still and unchanged. When he finally did move, he turned to me with weary eyes.

"Come on, Bella," he said softly, and pushed himself up from the bench, leaving me pulling at my hoodie with my fingers. He held out his hand, and I didn't reach to take it; I could only stare at him. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally stuck in bleak disorientation. After a few moments, he withdrew his hand and pushed both into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. "You should go back to your parents. You might not think so, but you're the best thing in their lives. They love you. Go love them back while they're still around."

My lips trembled as I searched for the right thing to say, feeling guilt lick at my body, though a fierce resistance to his words bubbled inside me as well. "I--I _do _love them," I said assertively, standing up on my shaky legs. "I never said I didn't."

"I know," he muttered. "So, go be with them—the people that you care about. Don't waste your time worrying about me. I told you--I'm a wreck."

My shoulders, which had been taut with concentrated tension, slackened moderately. We could talk the subject to death, and even though I had tried desperately to make him feel safer in my arms, it hadn't been enough. He was still pushing, because my hands weren't miraculous and couldn't caress the painful memories away; I couldn't protect him from the demons that were clawing at his insides; I wasn't the comfort or the answer that he had been searching for, and I was an obtuse little girl for thinking that I ever could have been.

There had always been a bigger monster waiting in the wings.

"Fine," I mumbled miserably, my cheeks and eyes filling with none other than unsolicited blood and tears--my very own signature cocktail for the week.

He was sorry. Apologies were burning in his eyes like deep, poignant fires, but he didn't say anything as he stared at me, perhaps hoping that I would be able to read it for myself. And I was aware, but couldn't verbalize that I understood.

"So," I said in a defeated whisper, biting the inside of my lip as I came closer to losing my composure. "Should I say goodbye now or later?"

He looked at the floor, exhaling, deflating in front of my eyes. "I'm going to try to sleep. I'll probably leave later tonight."

I swallowed, trying to keep the pain at bay; my chest had never ached so badly, and it was spreading to my stomach. I needed to walk away--far away so he wouldn't see me cry or vomit, if that's what was going to happen. I nodded quickly, then turned to walk to the lobby without waiting for him. As I approached the door, I wasn't sure where I should go: my truck or my room. I didn't want to hear him pack his bags or suffer another nightmare--the nightmare that either _he _was going to vanquish or have it end him first.

"Bella," he called after me, sounding as though he was choking on my name.

Little phantom slivers of glass invaded my heart at the sound, and I managed to grip the doorknobs tightly to keep from running. I turned my neck slowly, keeping the rest of my body facing forward. I was too afraid I'd bolt into his arms and beg him, for real, to stay.

"You're leaving tonight?" I asked once again, to confirm his decision.

His shoulders raised slightly, as if shrugging, but then he nodded, grimacing. I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my lip to prevent tears from spilling over my eyelashes. "Then, I'll see you later," I finished, pulled open the doors, and pleaded with my feet to quickly carry me to the staircase.

-:-

Dawn had broken through the window in my room awhile ago, and faint traces of daylight had streamed inside since then--it must have been cloudy, for there was no glistening sunlight to greet my eyes today. Sleep hadn't come for me, just as I expected. Thinking about Edward running off to exact retribution on someone who may or may not be a serial murderer wasn't exactly lulling. And if it was the wrong person, Edward was going to keep hunting for the _one_, and possibly get himself killed in the process. It was almost dreamlike; and unfortunately, I wasn't waking up, because I was already fully conscious, and not living in some kind of fantastic movie.

Only minutes after I had entered my room and succumbed to my bed, I'd heard his door shut, followed by the pipes creaking, and then a bit of shuffling before silence. He could have been asleep by now, or just lying there in silence, trying desperately to slip into unconsciousness, or forget the task that was ahead of him for a few, short hours. Though, I doubted he'd be successful at either.

My body was trembling involuntarily, probably from fatigue, and even when I shut my eyes, the heavy, aching feeling in my head didn't dissipate. I wished I would have thought to fill the prescription Dr. Cullen had given me--if anything could send me into a hazy oblivion, it was painkillers. But all I had was Tylenol and a half-empty box of Midol. I supposed I could pop one of _those_; though, I was pretty sure my birth-control was already taking care of my spiking, uneven hormones.

_Crap. Have you even taken any in the past few days? _I'd been so occupied with Edward and other things, I couldn't remember if I'd kept myself on schedule. It wasn't as if I was actually having sex, but still--there was no need to bring on a week of menstrual hell prematurely. I had no idea how I would feel after Edward left; devastated, probably. Or maybe I would get lucky and have one of my numb spells. Either way, there was no helping the situation. I'd tried everything I could think of, and--

My eyes snapped open. _No. You haven't tried _everything_._

I sat up, my comforter slowly falling off my upper body and I stared at the door.

_You're insane. That's the dumbest fucking thing you've ever thought of._

My heart started pounding and I felt heat creep into my cheeks, suddenly getting a wild burst of energy. I jumped out of bed and reached for my shoes, my fingers slipping and tugging them on clumsily. Before I knew it, I was out in the hallway. I couldn't believe what I was going to do, but my feet were moving, and suddenly, there was no changing my mind.

_God help you, Bella. You're going to need it._

-:-

**I apologize for my A/N's; I know they're downright longwinded, but please, hear me out. I love this fandom, and with each word I either read or write, a part of me smiles, laughs, cries, and celebrates what we've all created. We all give each other stories, reviews, advice, and/or recommendations. So, if anyone's in the mood to give a little something else to a good cause, please read on, because lolashoes, ninapolitan, and tby789 have put together something wonderful:**

**The Twilight Fandom Gives Back**

Did you know that every year over 200,000 children worldwide are diagnosed with a form of childhood cancer? We cannot ignore this shocking statistic impacting the youth of the world, and we certainly hope that you won't either. We need your Nov. 15th, through Nov. 20th, you will have the opportunity to help in the fight against childhood cancer. We haven't set a monetary goal because we're firm in the belief that no matter what we set, you as a fandom will surpass it. For more information or to donate, please visit:

**www[dot]alexslemonade[dot]org/stands/19842**

**I was very surprised to hear that "The Woods" was nominated for A Sparkle Award for Best AU. I'm flattered, really. And I was also a little embarrassed because I never heard of The Sparkle Awards, and when my beta first mentioned it, I immediately thought…"Like, My Little Pony?" and then realized, "Ah. Vampire skin + sunlight. Got it." You can laugh at me. Anyway, you can vote as many times as you want, and see all the other nominees (including my beta and _In My Power _*catcall*)**** at www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com I'm not expecting to win, because I'm up against **_**Creature of Habit **_**(hello, **_**amazing, famous **_**story) and other fabulous authors**_**, **_**and little ol' me hasn't really brought vampires in**** yet, except Carlisle. Which brings me to my next point:**

**Yes. The answer is yes, to all of those who keep asking and wondering. Vampires will be brought into this story in a very big way. But I'm not done with the humans yet, m'kay? ;) You guys are making me feel almost treacherous for giving Edward a heartbeat! Ha! So, maybe enjoy the warm-bloodedness for awhile, please? The vamps will come in good time. I'm waiting for a reason.**

**Much love, my lovelies. I'd write more, but I think you probably want me to shut up now. 'Til next time! *Muah***


	19. How Deep the Bullet Lies

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, I'd make Edward human, because when it comes down to getting intimate, I wouldn't want the man to want to kill me. We can role play as vampires. ;)**

**I'm not going to rant as usual. All I can say is that I'm overwhelmed by the responses you all are kind enough to give to me, and I light up and even have excited giggle fits while reading some of your reviews, because, let's face it--so many of you crack me up. Hard. I love you all--tons. :D**

**Emilie Fauve…is my savior. Thank you SO much for all your hard work and excellent support, your unyielding friendship and inspiration, and all-around fuckawesomeness. ****Also, I have to mention queenofgrey: Hon, not only are you brilliant and talented, and your work inspires me, but you keep me laughing hysterically on Twitter, and I'm proud to share snippets with you. ;) I HEART YOU MUCH!**

**Okay…so I did rant a little. Oh well. *Muah.***

-:-

The wind was teasing me with blasts and bursts of fresh and cold, soft and surging, and the constant ebb and flow was unsettling. Nothing seemed to stay stable for long--not even the clouds. They were shifting and changing shape so fast, and before I could seek out any recognizable figures, they had transformed. Just as I thought I could make out the shape of a heart, it nearly tore itself in half, mutating and twisting into a long, jagged 'S,' reminiscent of a snake. I tore my eyes away from the sky and focused on the ground, where there was nothing but gravel, rocks, and dirt. I fumbled my fingers in a cyclical trance, and I knew that, soon enough, the semi-stillness surrounding me was going to be eradicated.

_Yup. That's right, Ms. Fix-It. All because of you and your brilliant idea._

I was fairly sure that I was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. _Breathe into the mental paper bag, Bella. _Honestly, deep breathing was the only thing keeping me from jumping into my driver's seat and flooring it out of the parking lot. As I sat on the back of my truck, I swung my legs back and forth, repeatedly banging my heels against the tailgate. Every hollow thump taunted me with a continuous echo.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

I clutched my waist, shivering a bit from the unpleasantly cold wind, and contemplated going back to my room to dig in my suitcase for the coat that I had brought with me--Charlie had insisted that I take it _'just in case.'_ I was stuck wearing my sweater hoodie again, as I had, apparently, misplaced my black one, which was decidedly much warmer. I liked both, but the sweater's knitted material wasn't exactly suitable at blocking the wind. Thinking about the drop in temperature, I suddenly missed Florida. I sighed forcefully and, for the umpteenth occasion, pulled my phone out of my pocket to steal a look at the time. It was after two o'clock in the afternoon.

I'd been awake for longer than twenty-four hours, and I was worried that either I was going to slowly sink into hypothermia, or fall asleep sitting up. Thoughts of my bed and its warm, feathery comforter were tempting, but if I was _really _going to do this, then I had to stay put. Either that, or just hide and not come out for a week. I'd gone over the situation numerous times in my head, and it didn't seem as if there could be a pleasant outcome. Of course, I had no precise idea how Edward would react to what I had done; he would probably be furious, or shocked, or frantic. With my luck, he'd be all three, and it wasn't like he wouldn't have a right to be.

_This is _not_ going to go well. Not at all. You still have time to undo it._

_Ugh, will you stop biting your goddamned nails?!_

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and blew out my breath in a steady stream, looking straight up in the air until I felt blood rush to the back of my head. The clouds were still swirling with an intoxicating migration, and I slightly teetered on the edge of where I was sitting, starting to feel a little dizzy after watching them for a minute. Gently righting myself, I pulled my head forward again…and almost screamed. I only managed to gasp before losing my balance and starting to fall backwards, but two warm, strong hands gripped mine, keeping me from landing inside the bed of the truck, flat on my back.

As I'd transferred my eyes from the sky to the space in front of me, I had found that Edward was standing a few feet away, all gorgeous with his disheveled hair and gem-like eyes; but _God_, had he scared the hell out of me.

"Jesus," I breathed, catching my breath and tightening my legs on the truck's frame to gain my stability again. "Do you always sneak up on people like that, or am I just your favorite victim?"

As expected, I didn't receive a smile from him. He simply gave my hands a small squeeze and said, "I'm sorry. I was afraid I'd startle you if I spoke."

It felt strange to actually be taller than him for once, and I had a momentary urge to capture him with my legs and pull him closer so I could embrace him, breathe him in, and lay my head upon his before he started screaming at me.

_To hell with just _thinking _it._

Surprising myself, I did exactly what I wanted. My legs circled behind his back and I used my heels to draw him forward, pulling his head against my chest as soon as my hands could reach him. I gently ran my fingers through his hair and leaned down to practically hide my face against his feathery, bronze mane, not completely able to hold back a soft moan. His hair smelled wonderful; all soap and spice, and man, and nectar. Even fucking Burberry couldn't hope to bottle such an enticing scent.

My heart's beats were bittersweet as I felt his hands on my back, and little pangs of desperation and worry, mixed with warmth and affection, began to build inside my stomach, slowly rising to my chest as I realized that he wasn't pulling away, but leaning _in_. I sighed into his hair and held him for a few more moments before reluctantly loosening my grasp. I tilted his head back a bit, and little by little, his eyes opened. Blinking, he gazed up at me with a mixture of tenderness and curiosity.

"What was that for?" he asked softly.

_Just my unspoken apology, that's all. _That, and I was being selfish again, wanting to hold him one more time before he would want nothing to do with me…and while he was still here.

"I just wanted to," I said honestly, hesitant to release him. His hair was soft under my fingers, and though I told myself to let go, my fingers defiantly curled, trapping sections of his coffee-colored strands between them.

I expected him to sigh, or his eyes to stray to find something else on which to focus; but instead, his brow creased and he seemed to be scrutinizing my expression. I knew the anxiety that was spinning throughout my entire body had to be showing on my face, as well.

"You didn't sleep?" he asked me, reaching up to trace the skin under my eye with his thumb. I wondered if I appeared as weary as the falcate shadows that rested beneath his lower lashes.

I shook my head. "I couldn't."

Edward did sigh, then, and he placed his hands on my legs. "Oh, Bella," he mumbled, lowering his gaze to the same rocky ground I'd been staring at for the past couple of hours. When he glanced back up, his eyes were practically bursting with the apologetic look that I'd left him with earlier that morning. "I don't expect you to ever begin to forgive me. What I put you through…no one should have had to deal with that, except me. I'm so sor--"

"You're always so quick to blame yourself," I said, finally freeing his hair from my hands. "I chose to stay with you last night; you didn't force me to. And you have nothing to be sorry for, so don't say it. This whole thing is unfair, and you're right--no one should have to deal with it, and that _includes _you."

His hands tightened on my thighs, then loosened quickly. "I appreciate you saying so. But I have to disagree."

I let my head fall back a bit, and I stared into the clouds again, wishing that they had the power to lift both of us up and encapsulate us in their misty blanket, making us forget that the real world existed. "So, what are you doing? Getting ready to leave?" I asked in a monotone voice.

"I didn't want to go before speaking to you," he said, and I was _very _aware that his hands were still on me, slowly moving up to my waist. "I kept thinking about everything--the way it all must seem from your end. I almost can't comprehend why _you _haven't been the one to leave first."

_Oh, trust me, I thought about pulling a Bonnie-minus-Clyde numerous times in the past hour._

I cleared my throat and put my hands in my lap. I really didn't know how I was going to confess this. "You look pretty tired, too. Did you get any sleep?" _Because changing the subject is a real winner of a way to start._

Edward let go of my sides to take my quivering hands in his. "A little," he answered. I was too nervous to look into his eyes anymore, but I could only imagine that he was wondering what the hell was wrong with me. "Bella, I know you're probably sick to death of talking about this, but--"

"I did something," I blurted out. _Oh, _that's _tactful!_

I couldn't stop gazing at his hands on mine, and I tried to burn the image into my memory, wanting to soak up all I could. He didn't move, but his fingers twitched the slightest bit, and my heart started to accelerate.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice sounding peculiarly concerned.

Inhaling shakily, I pulled my hands from underneath his and ran them through my hair, grasping the ends tightly. I briefly wondered if this was what he experienced before a panic attack: a racing heart, churning stomach, spinning equilibrium--how ironic it would be if he made a move to calm _me _down, especially now.

"I, um…" I sucked in my breath again, biting the inside of my lip as I finally looked up at him. "You know, I wanted to tell someone what you told me. I even thought about calling Charlie."

Edward stiffened a bit, and he stared at me intently, as if I actually _had _done so.

"I didn't," I said quickly, though his shoulders didn't relax. "I can't tell you how close I came…and if I wasn't so afraid of what would happen to you afterward, I might have."

I wasn't lying. I _had _considered it, but the thought of him having to undergo anymore police interference made me feel sick, and since I had a cop for a father, I knew that law enforcement didn't mess around with _any _conspiracy to murder, no matter how justified it might seem. Plus, it would be _my _statement that would land him in trouble, or jail, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I carried around _that _responsibility.

"I deliberated on begging you to change your mind, too," I continued, wringing my sweaty hands together. "It'd be childish and stupid just to start sobbing and pleading for you to stop something that you're so dead-set on finishing. And I figured it would be hopeless to suggest that I come _with _you."

I could tell by his eyes that both of those ideas would have been ineffective, though I truthfully had thought about it, anyway. I could only imagine his surprise to have found me stowed away in his trunk, ready to pull a whole '_Sugar, we're goin' down swinging--together' _trick. But that was moronic, and way too Hollywood-esque to ever come close to working out. I even thought that maybe I could play 'Midnight Hussy' and fuck some sense into him, too, but I wasn't about to mention _that_.

Edward's hands moved further, resting on my knees now, and he took a breath. "So, if you aren't going to do any of those things…what did you already do?"

My hand started to move to my mouth, but Edward caught it before I could begin gnawing away at my thumbnail. "Bella?" he questioned, studying me with a cautious, yet anxious, expression.

_Well, tell him, you klepto._ "I took your gun."

And just like that, Edward's hands slid away from my body immediately, and fell limply to his sides. For a few moments, he simply looked at me as though I had just told him the time, or something insignificant. But slowly, yet surely, his expression became much more grave.

"You…_took _it?" he repeated, now gaping at me in what might have been disbelief. "You broke into my car?"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks flush madly. "No. You have a spare key under your passenger door. You showed me two nights ago, remember?"

Originally, when I'd gone outside earlier that morning, I wasn't sure if he had replaced it or not; I didn't remember him doing so after we had talked in his car, and when I fumbled under the Volvo's frame to check, I'd found the little box easily, and a duplicate key was magnetized inside. I'd stared at it in my hands for a long time, deliberating the pros and cons of my decision, before actually opening the door and taking the black case out of the glove box.

In principle, I hadn't _actually _been breaking and entering, just…entering. Without permission. And stealing…or gun-napping.

Edward took a small step back, though he stayed close. His eyebrows gathered and he stared at me strangely, making my heart beat even faster; although, it wasn't the proverbial, passionate pulse-quickening I was used to. My body wasn't on overdrive because of _excitement _this time--I was _scared _of the way he was looking at me, now. I watched his throat move; he was probably swallowing a few choice phrases that he'd like to spit out at me. I swallowed, too, thinking that if I'd actually eaten or had anything to drink in the past few hours, it would have made a reappearance by now.

"Where is it?" he asked hoarsely, burning me with the little, emerald flames that flickered with vexation as they danced in his irises.

I tightened my arms around myself again as the wind blew harder, intensifying the adverse friction that was suddenly between us. I was feeling colder by the second. "I'm not saying. And I'm not letting you do this."

Edward flexed his fingers and tightly grasped the tailgate, closing his eyes as he inhaled a quick breath. "_Bella_," he said, his voice giving off a very serious warning. "You can't just _take _something and make this all go away, or just--you--"

His voice caught in his throat and he took another deep breath, appearing paler than usual. I was overstepping my boundaries in the worst possible way; I'd stolen from him, and I was now making demands. He was angry, and he had a right to be.

_Look past that. You can't just take this back now._

"I--"

"This is _not _your fight," he interrupted, and my resolve wavered even more as he glared at me fiercely. "It's mine."

"It doesn't have to be," I almost whispered, and within a second, Edward pushed himself away from me and started walking back, down the parking lot. Half-afraid that he might just take off in his car without much of a warning, I jumped down from the ledge of my truck and followed him.

_You are in _such _trouble. _I knew that, technically, if he really wanted to, he could press charges against me. But, I figured he'd probably want to keep the authorities out of it; the fewer questions on his behalf, the better, I supposed. Maybe he was going to call his friend and have _him _force the answers out of me.

When he reached his car, he suddenly spun around, halting me in my tracks, and quickly asked, "Did you throw it away?"

"N-no," I answered, silently scolding myself for being unable to keep any unease out of my voice.

His eyes drifted to the side and he turned back to the Volvo, running his hands through his hair, no doubt wondering where the hell I would think to hide it. I stepped closer to him and allowed my physical and emotional desperation to take over.

"Don't think about what was in there--look at _me_," I pressed, grabbing onto his shirt and turning him so that we were facing. I knew I had no right to tell him what to do, but I was past decency…and probably sanity, too. "Take a minute, and don't think about that. Think about _yourself_."

"I could buy a new one, you know," he continued, not humoring my insistence.

I sighed, chewing on my bottom lip. "No, I don't think you will."

"And what makes you think _that_?"

The anger in his voice was gut-wrenching; I _hated _the way it was making my eyes sting with tears. I spoke my answer carefully. "Because I imagine that it was your father's gun…and I don't think you'd want to use anything else to finish off whoever it was that killed him and your mother."

He didn't deny it, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from his face. I had never seen him look so frustrated; his eyes were shining and squinted, and he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. Even his chest was rising and falling in a hostile pattern, swelling with his aggravated breath. "I should never have said _anything _to you," he spat, pushing my hands away from him. "I should have kept my goddamned mouth shut."

I grimaced, both from his words and the fact that my fingernails had just dug themselves into my palms. He forcibly pulled his keys out of his pocket, turned to his car, and opened the passenger door. I figured he was checking to see if I really _had _taken the gun, and I faced the opposite direction, too nervous to watch. I heard him shuffling around in the glove box and probably elsewhere, and after awhile, a loud slam of the car door made me cringe.

Hesitantly peeking over my shoulder, I found Edward leaning against the window, hands empty, as I knew they would be. His eyes were downcast, but I assumed that he was somewhere between seething and trying to rationalize the situation. I glanced at my truck, thinking that I should probably just drive away now, before he exploded in resentment. After a few moments, I turned around to try to reason with him, but he moved so quickly that I barely had a chance to react.

"You need to give it back," he said, walking up to me, and I immediately took a step away from him. "_Now_, Bella. I'm serious."

My breath was stuck in my throat as I shook my head, and Edward sighed shortly before clutching my shoulders.

"It wasn't yours to take," he said, sounding as though he was holding back from shouting at me.

I put my hands on his wrists. "Well, someone else's life isn't yours to take, either."

"I'm already damned for doing it once."

"That _wasn't _your _fault_," I argued in a harsh whisper, and his grip on my shoulders tightened. In no way was he harming me, but the intense look in his eyes made me tremble.

He released me instantly, and fisted his hands into his shirt. "God, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean--"

"I know. You didn't hurt me," I said honestly, but I could tell that he was already inwardly berating himself. "You need to stop blaming yourself for every single, little thing--"

"How could you _possibly _know what I need to do?" he practically hissed, leaning down so only I could hear him. It didn't matter--no one else was in the parking lot, anyway. "You think stealing from me is what's best here? _None _of this is going to go away, Bella--none of it! I have absolutely no idea _why _you insist on wasting your time!"

He was so close then, and his stare penetrated deeply into my eyes, and for some odd reason, I started to relax. I was finally getting a glimpse of what I'd been searching for--the briefest, smallest bit of qualm on his part. He was still angry, but he was slightly faltering, and I was strangely, yet dynamically drawn to him in that moment; I could feel every bit of zealous heat, fierce tension, and bizarre desire between us. Forgetting my reservations, I stood on my toes, pulled his face to mine, and tried to pour the unspeakable need that bubbled within my soul into him. "Because I don't want you to become the killer that you _think _is inside of you."

Silence hung heavy in the air, like a steel fog. I pressed my forehead against his barely-stubbled jaw and clung to the back of his neck. He shivered slightly, probably because my fingers were freezing. "Don't hate me, please…" I pleaded in a soft whisper that was hardly audible over the wind. "I just don't want to see you drive yourself into a nightmare."

I couldn't really see, but I felt him touch my shoulders again, and for a short moment, I thought he was going to push me away. Alternatively, to my surprise, he squeezed them gently, and bit by bit, his hands traveled up and down my arms, around my back, and up into my hair. I could hear small, strained sounds coming from his throat, but he didn't speak--I assumed he probably had no idea what to say. So, I spoke, instead.

"You said you never got the help you needed," I said, pulling back a bit so I could look at him. His eyes were nearly shut, fixed on the ground where everything was easier to observe. "So, please…Edward, _please _let me prove to you that you _can _get through this without doing something drastic. Let _me _help you. Let me _show _you. Let me love y--"

And suddenly, all of my oxygen cut off like my lungs had been plugged. _What_? What _did you say?! _I stumbled backward, out of his hands, and right up against a neighboring minivan. Like a uncooperative glutton for punishment, I kept my stare off the ground and gazed at him, right in time to see his expression go from distressed to stunned.

_Well, what's worse? Pilfering a weapon out of his glove compartment or uttering the 'L' word out of nowhere? You are all kinds of fucked up._

"I didn't mean that," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks turn scarlet. _Did I?_

He kept staring, seemingly frozen. Eventually, he cleared his throat and said huskily, "Which part?"

_Right, like I would actually humiliate myself even more by repeating it! Just apologize and get out of here._

"S-sorry," I stammered, and for a moment, forgot why we were outside in the first place. "I'm not--I just--"

_You're making it worse. But you have to tell him _something_._

"Think about it, Edward," I said, stepping further away before I passed out right in front of him. I was out of ideas, and knew that only _he _could make the decision in the end. "If you still want to go and do this when I come back, I'll give you the case. I promise."

He raised his eyebrows, looking unbearably confused. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," I said, thanking God that I had left my truck unlocked and had already placed my purse in the passenger seat. "Just, _please, _think of your life. There has to be a different way to deal with this. And I know you don't believe what I say, but if you can think of why you should give yourself a better opportunity, then maybe there's a chance, here."

I turned around, briskly walked back to my truck, and heaved myself into the driver's seat. I honestly had no clue where I was going. It wasn't like I really knew a place that would provide me some sort of refuge, and the lodge wasn't exactly my first choice at the moment.

As I drove past Edward, I tried not to look out the window--but my eyes were disobliging, and I glanced through the pane. He was leaning against his car, appearing to be the embodiment of pain and pique, disorientation, and bewilderment, all packed into one body. I rubbed my eyes and sighed, wondering if it all had been worth it, or if I had only succeeded in wrecking everything.

-:-

After circling the entire Forks' area more times than I could count, the sky opened up and poured down all its watery havoc, blinding me from driving past ten miles per hour. I saw a window of opportunity as I neared some sort of store, and pulled into the parking lot without caring where I was. I sat in my car for a good while, until I realized that my truck was running on a near-empty tank, and it was too cold to sit inside without the engine running.

_Freeze or get wet and seek refuge in…Newton's Outfitters. _My windshield wipers barely flushed away the rain enough for me to read the name, but I could make out a florescent-lit soccer ball, and another neon sign that read _"Best Sporting Goods in all of Forks County!"__ Wonderful. A sports store. _Of all places to end up, it couldn't have been a library or bookstore, or even a nice, safe Hallmark Store_. _It had to be something filled with instruments about which I certainly had no knowledge, and if I _was _going to browse, I'd most likely break something or hurt myself trying to pick up anything sport-related.

After listening to the rain pound for another minute, and feeling the cabin of my truck already begin to grow chilly, I grabbed my purse, jumped out of the seat, slammed the door, and booked it to the store's entrance.

Only ten or fifteen seconds had passed, but my hair and sweater were already sopping wet. An older woman behind a cash register gave me a smile as I entered the store, probably out of sympathy, considering the fact that I was suggestive of a drowning victim. I wiped my feet, feeling guilty that I was going to be dripping all over the floor.

"Um…do you have a restroom?" I tentatively asked the woman.

She pointed toward the right side of the store, still smiling politely. "Near the back, honey. Go past the tent display, and it's right down the hallway. Ladies' room is just to the right."

"Thanks," I said, and walked carefully past a _Caution: Wet Floor _sign that was propped up by a rack of Under Armor pants, thinking that I had a good chance of publicly performing my infamous _Swan Slip-N-Slide_. I passed a couple, who were arguing over getting a tent that slept four people as opposed to six, and rounded into the hallway with a tacky, worn sign that read "This Way to the Locker Rooms!"

I flipped my wet hair over my shoulder, hoping that the bathroom had one of those hand dryers that I could stand under for awhile. I walked past the men's room, and just as I approached the next door, I heard a distant sound, followed by a muffled voice. The ladies' room had a doorknob, so I figured someone was already in there.

I shifted my weight, shivering a little from being wet, and wondered how long I should wait before going back to the lodge. I figured it had only been a little more than a half an hour…maybe I should wait about two hours more? Three, at the latest? It wasn't like there as a handbook written on how much time to give someone to think about 'To seek, or not to seek vengeance?'

"Get against the--yeah--put your leg up."

"I'm _trying_."

_Umm…what? _Voices were coming from behind the door, and my eyes widened. _Chill. Maybe they have a kid. But that sounded like a guy…and this is the _women's _bathroom…_

"Jesus, ouch…the clip on your skirt's pinching my balls, baby. Can't you just take that damn thing off?"

My mouth dropped and I stepped back, nearly tripping over my own feet and flinging my hand over my lips to stifle a shocked gasp. For God's sake, why?! Why was _I_ cursed with being accidentally drawn to secret fornication frenzies in strange places?! I quickly turned, suddenly not caring about my appearance. At that point, I could have been covered in manure, and I still wouldn't have banged on that door to interrupt the bang_ing_.

Sprinting out of the confines of the hallway and back into the store, I nearly ran into one of the tents that was on exhibit. I kept walking until I was in front of a bunch of fishing equipment, and then had to remain moving, as my mind was in the gutter, and the display of _ultra-powered rods _was not helping me forget what had been going on in the bathroom.

I lost track of time, and even began to dry off as I aimlessly wandered around, passing camping equipment, lacrosse sticks, and other random sporting goods that I would probably never be able to handle. I was blankly staring at a shelf full of hockey pucks when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Can I help you, miss?"

_Oh, fuck._ I knew that voice. I turned around to find Mr. Bathroom Balls standing next to me with a rehearsed salesman's look on his face. "I'm…just looking. Thanks."

He grinned widely, and stepped toward me anyway. "You're not from around here, are you? I think I know almost every face that sets foot in here."

_I'll bet you know more than just faces._

"Oh, no," I answered, feeling the urge to shout _'I need an adult!' _"I'm not from here. Just visiting. My dad used to live up here, so--"

The guy's eyes widened in recognition, and I prepared myself for the probable slew of questions about my father. "Oh, you're Isabella!"

I felt like a damn celebrity. "Well, I go by Bella--"

"So, Chief Swan's daughter, huh?" Without offering, he reached for my hand and shook it, and my arm moved choppily as I was forced to accept his handshake. _Ew! What if he didn't wash his hands?! _"Wow," he continued. "You certainly are prettier than your dad."

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure how to take something like that. _"_Um…thanks." _I _am _female, jackass._

He continued to smile at me, probably trying to be charming, as if he _hadn't _just been screwing some other girl in the back room. Or maybe he was just proud of himself and thought he'd celebrate by checking _me _out. But then, he _winked_.

_Ugh. Seriously?! Yeah, you're quite debonair for a man-whore…all those dashing flair buttons, and plastic, probably sticky name tag…oh, my God._ His name tag read "Mike_." Newton's Outfitters. Mike Newton. _My mouth dropped and I inadvertently stepped backward, tipping over a stack of tubes containing tennis balls.

"Whoa," he said, gripping my hand tighter and tugging me away from the tumbling mess before I could pull away in repulsion. His smile was apparently as big as his ego. "I've got a clumsy one on my hands."

_Well, I've got a cock-monster on _my _hands!_

I pulled my hand out of his grasp and discreetly wiped it on my jeans as he continued smirking, acting surprisingly good-natured. "S-sorry," I stammered, and immediately started picking up the avalanche I'd caused.

"Oh, don't worry," said Mike, stooping down beside me and restacking the tubes. "It happens a lot, sweetie."

_Sweetie?! God._

I refrained from running away, and continued to help pick up the mess as Mike rambled on about random nonsense while I nodded politely—how, once, he had talked Charlie out of a speeding ticket; how he had unloaded a truckload of treadmills all by himself the previous evening; how he was in need of a _massage _because of all the heavy lifting.

"So, have you ever smacked around a couple balls?"

I nearly choked on my own saliva. I raised my head to incredulously stare at him, and realized he was holding up the last tube of tennis balls. Mike winked again, and I quickly got to my feet, cursing my blood vessels as I felt my cheeks flush. He smirked, probably thinking that I actually _liked _the suggestiveness behind his words. Honestly, I was thinking that I _was_ half a step away from finding a tennis racquet, and smacking around _his_ balls until they sported a waffle-print.

"Um, no," I answered, stepping away from the display before I accidentally knocked it over again. "I'm not into sports."

Mike raised his eyebrows curiously, but nodded. "Is there something else I can help you find?"

"No, thanks, I'm fi—" Then, I froze, because, of all people, Jessica Stanley rounded the corner. As shocked as I was to see her, I had never been so relieved at her arrival. She gave me a surprised, haughty glare, and scoffed audibly. I couldn't even find it in me to scowl in return, or just walk away, because she was wearing a red, plaid _skirt_. I hadn't recognized her whiny voice in the bathroom, at first, but now it was playing clearly in my mind.

_Gross. Who _hasn't_ been with this guy?!_

"Well, Bella, you're just _everywhere_, aren't you?" Jessica said in mock sweetness. _Oh, _you're_ one to talk, Little Miss Skirt Dropper! _She gave Mike a quick glance, then stepped up to his side and slid her hands around one of his arms. Her expression was _screaming_ for me to back off.

I couldn't help but snicker carelessly, and decided Jessica's presence was my window of opportunity to get away; this was just too much to deal with at the moment. "Nice meeting you, Mike," I said, pointing to his nametag. "See you later, Jessica." _Unfortunately._

Mike looked between both of us in confusion, probably wondering how the hell we knew each other. Jessica just crinkled her nose and gave me an odd smirk.

"Hope you enjoy your _day_, Bella," she said, her voice like tainted honey.

"Hope _you_ enjoy the gynecologist," I retorted, then raised my eyebrows at Mike. I knew he'd been on medication, but who knew how long it took for _things _to disappear? They both gave me a strange look, but I hurried away before they could say anything else.

I continued wandering around the store again, trying to rid my mind of all the unpleasant thoughts that had somehow ended up in my mind that morning. I really wanted to visit the bathroom to check for a hand dryer for my sweater and hair, but was too afraid of catching VD or whatever else Mike was passing around these days. I finally slumped into a fold-out chair fit with _three_ cups holders and sighed heavily. It was tempting, and easier, to pretend that Edward had never gotten a phone call at all, and that we could have both been in a much better state of mind, potentially still wrapped in little moments of beautiful bliss and calm. It wasn't as if I just wanted to have his hands all over me—I only desired to see him relaxed, again, because those were the instances in which I sensed that he felt safe, for once. There was now a very slim chance that I might get a glimpse of any more tranquility in his eyes, but I couldn't help but hope for it.

Even if, somehow, he _did _decide to stay, things weren't exactly going to be easy. I honestly had no clue what I'd do—so much for thinking things through methodically. I had just been trying to stop him from _going; _figuring out what to do if he _stayed _would be something entirely different to plan.

_He probably won't stay. Don't jump the gun._

I suddenly burst into laughter from my ironic thought, and a guy who had been sorting through ski pants gave me a strange look. When he walked away, I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes and rubbed until little flashing lights spread, blinding me in the blackness. I blinked a few times, and my vision slowly went from clouded to clear, and I wondered how much more time had passed. As I started to reach into my purse for my phone, I finally noticed what the rack in front of me held. After staring for a good amount of time, which caused my head to start swimming again, I stood up and decided maybe there _was_ something I could buy here, after all.

_You just can't stop, can you?_

But I was already reaching—again, my mind was made up.

-:-

There had been no reason for me to scurry like a madwoman back to my truck with my purchase tucked tightly under my arm, for the rain had stopped, and the sky was left with grayish, patchy, stewing clouds. I'd driven back to the lodge, and then promptly passed the rocky drive that led up to it, too spineless to face Edward, yet. I wasn't ready to see any more of his anger, or fear, or even be forgiven, if he chose to do such a thing. I couldn't help but feel like the sooner I went back to him, the sooner he'd be gone. And I wasn't prepared for that, either.

After two more chicken-shit drive-bys, I finally gathered the courage to make the turn, and slowly drove up the road, into the parking lot. I took a shaky breath as I spotted Edward sitting against the large, stone wall, adjacent to the Volvo, his head resting on his fist.

_Maybe if you run over his foot, he'll be incapacitated and won't be able to go anywhere. Or, Chevy, here, could play Monster Truck and tap dance all over that Volvo. It would probably be a bitch for him to get a rental car; though it's not like he wouldn't be able to pay the underage fee. You should have stolen his wallet _with _the gun._

He glanced at me, then, but I nervously looked away and pulled into an empty space two slots over from his car. As I turned my car off, the engine and my body switched states; _it_ fell silent as _my_ system jumpstarted—palms sweating, heart hammering against my sternum. My legs felt frozen, and I found myself staring blankly out the windshield, as though some magical fix-all solution might suddenly pop out of nowhere.

_Damn it. Get out of the car._

I slid out of my truck, landing steadily on my feet, for once. Edward was already standing, but he hadn't moved away from the wall. His eyes didn't meet mine as I carefully walked toward him, and instead of stopping in front of him, I ended up leaning next to him. Even through my sweater, I could still feel the chill of the stones against my back.

I peeked at him, but he didn't turn toward me, so I quickly mirrored his stance and folded my arms across my chest, keeping my gaze secured firmly on the ground. Eventually, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grant a momentary glimpse at _me_, but turned as soon as I made a move to look at him again.

_This is awkward. He's _so_ pissed._

After another desperately long minute of silence and unmet glances, I was ready to just give up, dash to get his gun, throw it at him, utter a blubbering apology, and have another drenching cry in my shower. I drew in a slow, quiet breath and turned to him, though I also took a step back, prepared to run in case the tears came early. But before I could say anything, he grabbed my hands and tugged me closer, and I stared up at him. His eyes were still beautiful—they were, no matter what emotion crossed his expression--but something _had_ changed. Only, I didn't feel relief, because I couldn't tell if the difference was positive or negative. I needed him to speak.

"For a little while, I thought you might not come back," he finally said, his voice still stuck in the deep, 'just-woke-up' tone.

I swallowed, reminding myself to breathe, and squeezed his hands gently, since his were freezing. "Well, I'd be lying if I said that thought never crossed my mind. But I promised you I'd…"

My mouth suddenly stopped working. Very slowly, almost painfully so, I pulled my hands out of his. I was familiar with the look in his eyes, now…they were _my_ eyes, from the past two years. They were like stone—set—blank to the world, because he felt disparaged and had nothing left to let gleam—he had given up. And he probably waited for me to come back so he could demand I follow through on my promise. I should have known by his entire stance that he hadn't exactly 'seen the light.'

He watched me, waiting for me to continue, but I couldn't think straight. Had I really been so naïve as to think that _I_ could change his mind—just me, by myself? I had. For some odd reason, I _had_ believed it. And even with his unspoken decision staring me right in the face, I _still_ believed it. That was the most embarrassing part.

"Bella—"

"I know," I said simply, pressing my back against the wall again, anxious for some support.

He stepped in front of me so I had nowhere else to look but at him. "I don't think you do, though."

I stared at him, silently wishing for, and daring him to prove me wrong. The wind was picking up again and I felt goose bumps rise on my skin, even under my clothes. Edward was only in a t-shirt, and I could see that his skin was mirroring mine...and I wished everything wasn't so complicated between us, because I really wanted to run my hands up and down his arms to warm him.

"You're leaving," I said softly, studying his reaction carefully, waiting for him to tell me something I 'didn't know.'

Edward blew his breath out and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead, and raking his hand through his hair. "Yes," he confirmed gently. "Whether you give me back the gun or not…yes."

I narrowed my eyes, hating the slow build of the pain that I knew would just grow worse and worse as we talked. _I told you I knew. _"I figured as much," I mumbled, playing with my fingernails, hoping I could hold back my tears for at least a few more minutes.

"It has nothing to do with what you did, I swear," he said, sounding sad. "I'm not angry. I was, but more with myself than with you."

"You should be mad," I argued, staring at the ground. "I betrayed your trust. I was just…I guess it doesn't matter. I certainly didn't help anything…I didn't do _anything--"_

"Didn't do anything?" he interrupted. If he would have let me finish, he would have heard me say anything _good_, but I figured he just wanted to rake me over the coals about how much I succeeded in screwing up his schedule, or whatever. I was surprised when I felt him touch my cheek and lift my chin, so I would look at him. "Bella, you offered me _you_."

_That, _I hadn't been expecting to hear_. _I creased my eyebrows, thinking back to our earlier conversation. I had done that, hadn't I? But that was pretty brainless of me: how could I help someone so broken when I couldn't even help myself? And a lot of good my earlier endeavors had done, anyway. They hadn't changed--

"Will you _stop it_?" he said, frustrated, breaking me out of my daze. I stared at him, wondering what I had done. "I can see it in your eyes," he continued. "You're thinking that you didn't help, that you made everything worse—"

"Didn't I?" I really _was_ confused, now.

He sighed and tucked my blowing hair behind my ear. "Well, you've certainly made this a lot more taxing…" My shoulders slumped a bit, and he quickly said, "No, no—not like that. I knew it would be difficult to go…and I really wish I didn't have to do this--"

"_Don't _do this." It was my turn to interject, and I could slowly feel the cold cutting through my skin and into my chest, where all the warmth I tried to keep safe was slowly taken over. I grasped his arms and tried to pull him toward me; he put his hands on my shoulders, keeping me at a very small distance, but I didn't care. "_Please_," I pleaded, knowing that my eyes were filling quickly. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't go. You can't--I can't let you--"

"Bella," he said quietly, but deeply. "If I stay--if I accept your help, your arms…what could I possibly offer you in return? I am not even a _sliver _of what you deserve."

"That is _not _true," I argued in a whisper, pulling him toward me again. I was growing more upset by the second, because, for some reason, he would not let me get any closer to him. My breath was shaky as I looked up at him. "What I deserve is the _truth_, Edward. You're going to have to say it, or else I'm going to think that you're pretending again. Tell me you honestly believe that this--what we have--couldn't work--couldn't be something _good_."

Edward sighed again, and his hands cupped my face, giving me the smallest bit of hope, before he reached for my hands and pushed them, very gently, toward my chest. "It couldn't."

_Ouch. _My fingers trembled as I brought my hand to my mouth, pulling gently at my lip. _Why?_

"Not from my end, Bella. I could never be anything good for you," he continued, repeating my words in the most awful way, barely able to look me in the eye. "I wish I could, but I can't be…and I won't be responsible for hurting you anymore. I've accepted it. Now, you need to."

I studied his face, searching desperately for a sign of untruth. I wanted to him to be lying; I wanted to find the slightest hint of uncertainty--a subtle fold in his cheek, a faint twitch of his mouth--just so I knew that he _had_, in fact, developed a crack in his shield. But his eyes were still solid, and the only genuine sentiment crossing his face was bereavement. He _was _sad, but he was done, and my stomach felt shredded as I realized he was ready to tell me goodbye. Pretend or not, _something _still made him say those words. And now, there was nothing else to say.

I narrowed my eyes, taking a moment to let the truth sink in. _You will _not _cry. _"Okay," I murmured, defeated. "Wait here."

Without waiting for him to consent, I turned and walked to the lodge's door and let myself inside. According to the grandfather clock, it was after six-thirty, and the lobby was empty--all the guests were probably in the dining room, and, thankfully, no one was in the Entertainment Hall. My footsteps echoed dully throughout the large room as I walked over to the hiding place I'd chosen--the piano--and lifted the lid, scooping up the black case that held Edward's past mistake, present demon, and probable, future fate.

I carried the case back outside and carefully held it out to Edward. He took it, then looked at me with heartbroken eyes that I didn't let myself get lost in, because I was trying _not _to tear up. "I want to say sorry, but I can't, Edward," I all but whispered. "I was just…" _Attempting to save you from yourself. Caring about your life. _"Trying. Just trying to help you."

The last few words I spoke were so hushed, I wasn't even sure if he could hear me. I felt so _stupid_, and like such a failure, that I could barely resist from covering my face. Surely, my cheeks were already flaming and giving away my embarrassment, so I just stood still. My eyes were on the ground when I heard Edward mumble something I couldn't make out, but when I looked up, he had turned away and walked toward the passenger door of his car, probably to put the gun inside.

_Well, it's now or never._

I went to my truck's own passenger door and opened it to retrieve the shopping bag from Newton's Outfitters. My heart pounded as I pushed the creaky door closed again and turned back to Edward, who had shut his door simultaneously. We both took a few steps to meet in the middle, again. Nervously gripping the bag and taking a deep breath, I held it out to him.

"I got you something," I said quietly. He blinked, eyeing the bag with curiosity, then looked at me questioningly. Seconds passed, and I raised my eyebrows slightly, holding the bag out further while resisting the urge to yell, _'Will you please just take it, already?!' _Eventually, he did, and my hands flew together like strong magnets. He stared at me for awhile longer, before cracking open the bag to peer inside.

And suddenly, I couldn't look at him. I felt embarrassed, as though we were in a relationship and I'd just given him a key to my apartment, and was waiting to see if it had been too extreme of an offering. I heard the paper bag rustle as he pulled out his gift, and after a few seconds, the bag hit the ground with a soft, slow landing. Empty.

He was holding it.

"You bought me a coat?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

I concentrated on fumbling with my sweater's zipper, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "You bought me dinner," I replied softly. "And winter's coming, so…"

He remained silent, and I still didn't glance up to see his reaction.

"I sort of guessed at the size," I mumbled, moving my eyes to the stones we were standing on. "I hope it fits you…if not, I have the receipt, if you want it. It wasn't on clearance, or anything, so it's returnable."

_Oh, my God, did you really just say that?! And _he _still hasn't said _anything_. Who knows what he's thinking, now…_

"It's not a bribe for you to stay," I said in a low voice. "I just wanted you to be warm, that's all."

It was the truth. I had scoured the entire men's section, looking for something that was wind and water-resistant, and lined with thermal padding to provide extra heat, but figured it would sound ridiculous to just start listing the coat's qualities to him like some sort of salesman. Moreover, I left out the fact that I chose the color brown because I thought it would bring out the chestnut highlights in his hair; also, I concealed that I had slipped a note into the inside chest pocket just in case he did end up leaving. I was pretty glad I hadn't thought twice about doing so, now.

_You have to look at him. One last time._

Biting the inside of my lip, I raised my eyes to his; his eyes were flitting between the coat and my face, his expression mixing with heartbreaking sadness, intense guilt, and what I could only describe as a look someone might have if they had just been returned their long-lost puppy. He was so wholly beautiful then, even with the misery that showed in every inch of his being. My knuckle cracked loudly as I wrung my hands together too tightly, and I thought I might explode out if he didn't say something soon. He looked oddly frozen in place, and just as I started to get lightheaded from holding my breath, he suddenly wrapped the jacket around his shoulders and slid his arms through the sleeves.

He stretched a bit and finally looked at me, his mouth parted with potential speech. After a very long five seconds, he managed to say, "It fits."

_Oh. Okay._

"That's good," I said softly, wondering if he was just being polite and simply hated it. He probably was just ready to get out of here, and I was making things awkward. My stomach churned uncomfortably, and I kept staring at him, taking the time to burn his image into my memory; soon, it would be all I had. "So, are you leaving…now?"

He nodded, still running his fingers over the fabric. Chills spread through my chest, and I expected my eyes to water and blur my vision, and have all the evidence of my sadness spill over and break my shield, but they didn't. I let out my breath and I stared at him, silently pleading with him to touch me, hold me, or reassure me--to even do all of those things. But he didn't move, or speak, and I knew that one of us had to say it first.

"Well," I said, finally. "I guess…goodbye."

I saw him visibly swallow before he fixed his gaze on me with his impossibly scenic, forest eyes. My throat ached, unfortunately proving that I wasn't completely anesthetized from the whole matter. I wanted to believe that our eyes were mirroring the same sadness, longing, and desperation--but even though it looked that way from my point of view, he still was frozen in place and didn't reciprocate my words, or offer up any of his own thoughts.

"Okay," I whispered, after a considerable amount of time passed in silence. I clutched my hands firmly into my hoodie, wanting so badly to hug him one more time--just give one more apology; one more plea; one more pretend, soothing feeling of comfort. _But you already pulled, and he pushed, and it hasn't gotten you anywhere. _"Bye," I managed to say again, then turned and walked steadily, albeit slowly, back to the door. Or maybe the woods. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go.

I never heard the footsteps behind me, but the sudden grip around my body didn't even startle me. Edward's arms had crossed over my chest and he was fiercely hugging me against him, pressing his face into my shoulder. I stopped, but kept a tight grasp on my sweater; I couldn't let myself turn around and embrace him back. I realized, now, that it would just be selfish--and in vain.

"I'm sorry," he choked, quietly crying into my hair. "I'm _so _sorry, Bella…"

_Oh, don't go. Don't go, don't go, don't go…_

"Leaving you--it's killing me."

_Then don't leave._

I felt him pull my hair away from my neck and press his lips against it, and I was very aware of his hot tears on my skin--little stings of his anguish, seeping into me like poison. "I have to go," he continued huskily. "I know I told you--I mean, I never--I'd never expect you to understand…but I just _have _to leave."

_Please, don't._

I bit my lip, hard, in fear that I would release every thought through my mouth, but, due to the ice that was slowly spreading through my veins, I didn't sense the pain I expected. It was happening again; Edward didn't know it, but I had a protective shield, too. Like a great dose of Novocain, sometimes, and without warning, my mind briefly forgot what it was like to feel.

I clenched and unclenched my fingers from my sweater as his whole body shuddered with nearly silent sobs, and I could barely breathe when he clutched me tighter. My mouth remained stationary, parted, panting little misty puffs into the chilly air; I watched each one form and disappear, and finally closed my eyes so I didn't have to see everything repeatedly fade to black any more than it already had. Steady darkness was better.

Eventually, Edward loosened his arms and released me from his grasp, yet my lungs still felt constricted--stuck, and I wondered if it was possible to numb my breathing, as well. His trembling hands drew back slowly onto my shoulders and he squeezed gently.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he whispered, and I felt his hands thread through my hair before he kissed the top of my head. Then, suddenly, he was gone. No more warmth--only empty air.

I listened to his hastened footsteps, the slam of the car door, and the purring start of the engine--I even waited to hear the scrape of the tires against the gravely road, because I didn't want the false impression that he would sit in his car and contemplate things again. Once I was left in silence, I walked to my truck, retrieved my purse, and kept moving.

I just wanted my bed.

I barely heard or saw anyone or anything as I hurried through the lobby, and even if someone had called my full name, I probably wouldn't have noticed. My feet carried me by memory; for once, the climb to my room didn't feel strenuous or long, or even high. When I reached my door, I fished in my purse and pulled out my key, but there was something covering the entire doorknob and keyhole, preventing me from inserting it. Something familiar, and black. And _hot pink_.

I stared, blinked, and started to feel my teeth gnashing against my bottom lip as the numbing sedation quickly wore off. I lifted my hoodie--the one I'd been looking for--off the doorknob, holding it by the shoulders so I could read the message that had been newly inscribed, or painted, or _poured _across the back.

_Edward's._

_Little._

_Slut._

I stared for a long time, anger and misery colliding fiercely in turbulent waves and making me shake madly. It had to have been Jessica. Or Lauren. Or both. Either way, I was insulted, and my favorite piece of clothing was ruined, now sporting the name of the man who would haunt my dreams for a long time to come.

_This is not right, God damn it._

My hand was shaking so badly, I dropped my room key twice before jamming it into the lock, and I immediately slammed my door once I was inside, violently throwing my tainted hoodie into the corner, followed by my purse.

"_Fuck_," I muttered, ripping off my shoes and socks and throwing them at the wall, too. I hastily stepped out of my jeans, yanked my sweater off, which left me in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, and I jerked the covers back before collapsing into bed and burying myself beneath the comforter.

_Don't you cry. You can go start a fire in Jessica's car, and maybe burn down Newton's while you're at it, but right now, you are going to _fucking _sleep._

I stretched my arms to reach for an extra pillow, and instead of gathering a handful of the bunchy, featheriness I expected, my fingers entwined with something else entirely. I froze, and suddenly, I did not breathe.

_No._

I moved my fingers around, hoping I was mistaken.

_Not mistaken._

Oxygen flooded my lungs as I inhaled deeply, unable to stop my eyes from starting to prickle. Slowly, I pulled out the thin fabric my hand had come into contact with, and I desperately prayed for it to be a part of the white sheet, and not the soft, light blue material that I remembered.

It wasn't the sheet. It was Edward's t-shirt.

I'd forgotten that I had put it under my pillow, and apparently, he hadn't remembered to retrieve it, and whoever had changed my sheets had replaced it. I reread the inscription a dozen times, letting '_I Have Promises to Keep and Miles to Go Before I Sleep' _burn into my eyes, and only _then _realized why he might have had a shirt that said something so pivotal. He had promises to keep all along; none of them had anything to do with me. I really _was _unbelievably naïve to think I could have changed that.

_Why is the bed shaking?!_

It took me a moment to realize that _I_ was causing the movement by sobbing, but doing so silently, as I really couldn't get a deep enough breath to make a sound. Eventually, hot blood swirled in my head as tears streamed from my eyes, and my breath hitched with uninhibited gasps. My head pounded and tightened in strained agony, and I didn't care to stay quiet; no one could hear me, and there wasn't anyone on the other side of the wall anymore. This was _my _floor; no more _our _floor.

I pulled Edward's shirt to my chest and buried myself deeper into the comforter, praying that unconsciousness would come quickly and deliver me another dose of my defense.

-:-

**My inspiration? "All We Are" by OneRepublic, "Down" by Jason Walker, "Into Dust" by Mazzy Star, "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo, and this picture: www(dot)weheartit(dot)com/entry/238067 ****They're not dressed appropriately for what I wrote, but oh well. However, that **_**is **_**how I picture Bella's sweater.**

**I'm sorry to all those who were wishing/hoping/praying/pleading with me to have Bella go to Edward's room and ravish him. I entertained the thought, trust me...but no. Sorry?**

**I really need these next few weeks to concentrate on The Twilight 25. (Don't know what I'm talking about? See my profile.) I'll try my best to write for Chapter 20, but I need 20 more o/s's/drabbles completed by November 30****th for TT25****. Pray for me.**

**Also, don't forget: **

**The Twilight Fandom Gives Back**:** www[dot]alexslemonade[dot]org/stands/19842 Or, go to: thefandomgivesback[dot]com to see all the info on the Author Auction, where you can bid on some of your favorite authors works' and fandom goodies. All proceeds go to Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation for fighting childhood cancer. Good stuff, good times, good cause.**

**Okay…go curse me to hell if you must. I might tear up, but I've got Emilie Fauve and queenofgrey's shoulders to cry on. :P**


	20. Aftershocks

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own a new Toshiba computer, though, as my Compaq literally conked out on me in the middle of writing this chapter. Thank GOD for zip drives. *Sighs***

**Emilie Fauve is my rock and is beta-riffic. (You should know this song-and-dance by now, hon!) Also, thanks to queenofgrey--she invited me into a word challenge and that's the reason this chapter got finished tonight. Plus, she pumped me up by sending me snippets. I looove. *heart***

**I won't blabber until the bottom. Sorry this is so epically late, loves. Real life bit my ass. A lot. Read on? Hehe.**

-:-

I slept fitfully. When I did wake, I punished my eyes for opening, squeezing my eyelids shut until my head ached from the pressure. I didn't want to see anything. In darkness, there was nothing: no haunting reminders, no memories, no reasons for my heart to race, or break. It was pure emptiness, and I craved it.

During what was probably my longest spell of oblivion, I had a bizarre dream where I was chasing an indistinguishable someone on a sandy beach. It was dusk, and the sky was midnight blue, and surprisingly, I could see well--however, being able to see clearly did _not _aid me in catching the mysterious, shadowed being, no matter how fast I ran. Every time I reached out to grab their hand, they would dash away from me, laughing triumphantly. Oddly, I couldn't discern whether the voice was male or female.

"_Stop! Wait!" _I cried, but they sped ahead of me, leaving me behind on the quiet, vacant shore. Disappointed that I was alone, I collapsed onto my back and rolled closer to the coast. A bubbling swell of waves tickled my toes, and the crash and surge of the water created an alluring symphony in partnership with the wind. I stretched my arms and legs in a sand-angel movement, and slowly began to sink into the damp sand.

I smiled, enjoying the smooth, cool granules covering and tickling my skin. But, suddenly, I descended too deep, and the pressure built upon my chest like heavy chains. I tried to scoop away the bulky, grainy weight but the waves were fast, overly strong, and I became stuck in a full-body sand trap. I should have panicked, but I felt too weak to move, and the almost too-warm tide surrounded me. Waves unrelentingly crashed atop my head, and the immensity made me dizzy--disoriented--achingly _hot_, even. I was suffocating. I wanted to cry for help, but had gone under in my own self-created tomb. Confined.

_Help._

Groaning, I managed to tear myself out of my dream and opened my eyes to a horrendous consciousness. _Ugh. Drowning was better._

I felt like _shit. _The strange pressure I'd imagined was now a fusion of genuine muscle aches, and the illusion of water that had engulfed my body was, in reality, my own sweat. It hadn't been _that _horrible of a nightmare--I'd had worse. Was I sick?

I rolled over, blinking groggily, and tried to reach for my phone to check the time. Then, I remembered that it was in my purse, which I had thrown against the wall before I'd collapsed into bed for the night. _Damn._

Painfully dragging myself out of bed, I walked unsteadily to the corner of my room, shivering from the sudden loss of my blanket. I bent over to retrieve my purse, and I could feel my blood sorely swirling around in my head like a mental hurricane. _Yup. You're sick. What perfect timing._

I fished my phone out of my purse and staggered back to bed with it, only looking at the screen once I was back under the comforter, where it was warm. Throwing my purse at the wall had proved to be a mistake; it was the second time my phone had taken a crashing blow, and I'd succeeded in making the outside screen a permanent, solid, purplish color. I sighed and opened it, thankfully finding that the inside was unharmed.

It was six-fifteen in the morning, on the dot. I considered calling my parents, just to whine, but I didn't want them to worry any more than they already did after hearing about my concussion. Languidly staring into space for a few minutes, I decided that more sleep might be promising; surprisingly, it came easy.

By the time I woke up again, a bright light had seeped through the cracks in my curtains, and yet I still felt as though I'd been hit by a truck and been granted sun poisoning. I felt hot, to my own touch, anyway, but I couldn't stop shivering, like I'd left a window open all night. I rolled over and felt something poke my side--my phone. I pulled it out of the comforter's folds and flipped it open.

Now, it was past noon. _You are officially an old woman, sick or no. You've been in bed for eighteen hours!_

I stumbled out of bed to retrieve some Tylenol, thinking that it would probably be smart to hydrate, too, considering the fact that my shirt was still sticking to me as though I'd worn it while showering. _Replenishing the sweat glands. Really sexy, Bella. Though, it's not like you have to worry about impressing anyone…not anymore._

After changing my shirt and downing a glass of water and the little pills, I crawled back into my mass of pillows and sheets, debating on whether or not to call Angela. It was Friday--one of her days off--and I knew there was a possibility that she might still be sleeping, due to her graveyard shift schedule. I decided to send her a text message, just to be safe, keen on letting her know a teensy, tiny bit of information.

'_Flu shots do NOT work, FYI,' _I typed, then hit send. Less than thirty seconds later, my phone rang, and the shrill sound echoed throughout my room, startling me and making my head throb. I figured it was Angela, even though I could no longer see my Caller-ID.

"Hello?" I answered, cringing at my sleep-heavy voice. _Ew. You sound like a sixty year-long smoker._

"Wow," came Angela's voice. "Is this Bella, or Cloris Leachman?"

I snorted. "It's me. I woke you, didn't I?" I asked, suddenly feeling guilty for bothering her.

She laughed, sounding almost perky. "No. I actually went to bed before nine last night and woke up like six hours ago. So, what's wrong? You think you have the flu?"

I pathetically proceeded to ramble an explanation of how I'd felt when I woke up, omitting the word 'shit,' and despite my arguments, Angela insisted that she was coming over to put her nursing skills to good use.

Angel that she was, she brought me soup from her favorite deli, swearing that 'it would make my mouth have an orgasm, no matter how close to death I was,' and a big bottle of Gatorade fruit punch. In spite of my embarrassment, I gave in and let her feel my forehead, only to brush her away as soon as her concerned 'mommy' face made an appearance.

"So, what am I dealing with, here?" she asked, taking a seat at the desk, popping the lid off her own container of soup. "Are you just a snotty, hacking mess, or are you one of the lucky few who has the addition of bolting to the bathroom every half hour?"

"None of that, actually," I said, trying not to spill my lunch all over my lap. "I just…ache." Considering the last twenty-four hours, that was the most accurate word to describe it.

Angela pursed her lips and studied me. "Maybe you're not getting the flu, then. You might just be fighting off a virus, or something. I mean, you've had some stress this past week, with the accident and all, and being in a new place."

_And meeting/kissing/crying over a boy who's seeking retribution on America's Most Wanted. _It was a wonder how Edward could actually stand on his own two feet without succumbing to some kind of stress-induced illness, with all that _he _went through.

Thinking about him made me feel worse, and I inwardly scolded myself for letting myself do so already. "I guess," I answered her, wishing that I could reiterate even _half _of the non-Edward, unsettling chaos that had been stirring in this little town. Sex fiends in a sportswear store, creepy forest warnings, bitchy, ballistic girls defiling my clothes…well, maybe only one. But still.

"See how you feel later tonight. If you don't have any new symptoms, then I would say that you're in the clear," Angela said, leaning back in the chair. Then, she smirked. "Hey, maybe you're fighting _off _the flu. Just wait, you're going to be _thanking _me for the shot when this disappears tomorrow."

"Yeah, right," I said dramatically, sipping my soup. It _was _insanely good. "Thanks for my last meal, since I'm probably on my way to death," I joked.

Angela chuckled and shook her head. We ate in silence for awhile, and eventually, she glanced around the room and looked over at me with a curious expression. "So…where's Edward? Keeping his distance from the germs?"

I knew someone would have brought up his name sooner or later, but it still stung me like a painful shock. "He's…" _He's probably on his way to death, too. _"He had to leave."

"So he _did _leave you when you're sick, huh?" Angela said, leaning back in the chair. "Men. I really _am _going to have to have a chat with that guy."

"No, not like that," I continued, absently stirring my soup. "He left last night. Some kind of…" _Emergency revenge spree. _"Work-related thing."

Angela narrowed her eyes to the door and back to me. "Is he coming back?"

I concentrated on eating, merely giving a defeated shake of my head.

"Oh, Bella," Angela said, no doubt giving me a sympathetic look; I was too busy staring at my lap to see for myself. "Are you sure? What did he say?"

It felt strange to lie to her. She listened carefully as I fabricated a simple parting conversation between Edward and myself—something short and sweet. By the look on her face, I figured she assumed I wasn't telling the whole truth; I only hoped she took my fraught expression as part of my fatigue.

"That's a shame, really," she said quietly, playing with her fingernails. "Work has the worst timing, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, thinking of the _work _he would be doing. I set my almost-empty soup container to the side and sat back against some pillows.

"You two seemed…I don't know--_right _together the other night at the bar," Angela continued, creasing her eyebrows in thought. "Did, uh…did anything ever happen? I mean, after we left?"

Insanely, I'd forgotten about that night already. So many other thoughts had flown through my mind since then. The short time Edward and I had spent on the pier in Port Angeles seemed like weeks ago.

"He kissed me," I said, briefly letting myself reflect on the memory, remembering how soft his touch was, and the warm, delectable feeling of his lips. We'd been blissfully caught up in each other for the briefest of moments, and to know that I'd never get to experience it, or him, again made my chest feel heavy.

Angela smiled, though I didn't mirror her excitement. "Well, there you go. That's progress! Are you going to keep in touch with him?"

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure if my ailment or the talk of Edward was the reason for the deepening ache in my body. I pulled the comforter around me, feeling cold again, and bit the inside of my cheek as I stared at my lap. "I'm not sure. I don't know if he'll call, but he has my phone number."

Well, his coat had my number. I wasn't sure if he had found my letter right away; there was a good chance he wouldn't explore parts of his coat that were presumed empty--especially the chest pocket where I'd placed the letter. I _knew _I should have stuck it in one of the hand pockets.

Angela looked thoughtful. "I'm sure he will," she said reassuringly. "I mean, he seemed so alive around you. Before he met you, he looked so _lost_, and then, with you, he--"

I looked up at her sanguine face, wishing for some of her positive energy to transfer itself into me. She stared back, eyebrows raised in optimism, and then grew serious, probably due to the somber look that was unquestionably spread across my face.

"He'll call, Bella."

I managed a smile, though it felt as fake as something Jessica would give. After awhile, Angela left to let me rest, and instead of doing so, I tortured my aching head by reading more Stephen King; I stayed away from poetry--it was too good at stirring up my emotions. Not wanting to spend my time vainly trying to keep my mind blank, I forced myself into a restless nap, wanting refuge from the sunshine that was taunting me from behind the curtains.

However, dusk was torture. As the sun slowly died, the fever inside me began to burn, and the raw sting I'd been trying to keep at bay twisted through my veins like toxic vines. I clutched Edward's shirt to my sweat-covered chest and let tears cascade sideways over my cheekbones, down to my ears; little rivers of uncertainty. The pain pinched and pulled at my insides, but the fear was more crippling.

Naps hadn't helped to keep me calm; they were temporary, and when I couldn't sleep or read anymore, I was just given more time to think, to conjure horrific possibilities of what might happen to him. I wondered what he was doing, if he was okay, where he might be already. The unknown answers brought me nothing but more grief, and speculation was empty, cold. Several times, I reached for my phone, clumsily entering Charlie's number, determined to have him put a stop to it, for real this time.

I always ended the call before the first ring.

_Edward doesn't want help. _

I ran his words, all the ones that I remembered, through my head in a mantra. So much of what he had said should have registered as insane--this revenge, this crazy plan to avenge his parents…it was textbook hero-complex, webbed inside of survivor's guilt, which was in turn wrapped in his own complicated intricacies. He was fragile, but he was strong, and I didn't doubt that he could put up a fight. And for some strange reason, _somehow_, I understood why he thought he had to go.

Even so, it didn't stop my heart from throbbing, coursing and pushing abrasive blood through my body, reminding me that I was powerless in the whole situation.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up lethargically to open a text message. "_Hydrate_." Angela.

I sighed and reached for the fruit punch she'd left me, and swallowed as much as I could handle, hoping the sweetness would replace the bitter taste in my mouth. After I had sunk back into my comforter, which wasn't exactly living up to its name, I listened to my breath until the sky grew completely black and the shadows in my room disappeared, leaving me in more blankets than one--I had darkness, again. Slowly, I calmed, and my tears dried on my cheeks.

_Please, please, please._

Eventually, like a steady stream of paralysis, I finally got what I wanted. The numbness was back, slowly spreading over me, relaxing my muscles and freezing all my thoughts.

Only wind broke the silence, and I rolled over in bed, exchanging Edward's shirt for a pillow, which I wrapped my arms around, instead. I tossed the shirt to the foot of the bed, and as I closed my eyes to try to sleep again, I couldn't help but think that it was easier not to care.

-:-

I was shocked when I opened my eyes again. First, I had slept through the night without dreaming. Second, the sun was back for a second day in a row. And third, I felt _fine_. Just as Angela predicted, whatever had been plaguing me had been a twenty-four hour bit of hell, and hadn't turned into anything nasty.

"Gross," I announced to myself, pushing the blankets off my legs and pulling at my shirt. Apparently, during the night, I'd lost another quart of sweat and my clothes and sheets felt sticky and damp. And I hadn't showered the day before, so I didn't exactly smell great, either.

I decided that, with my renewed health, I needed to do something before my mind started wandering. So, I got up, stripped my sheets off my bed and stuffed them into my duffel bag, which held the rest of my clothes that were waiting to be washed. After a thorough scrub-down in the shower, I straightened up my room, slung the laundry bag over my shoulder, and started downstairs without giving a glance to the unoccupied room next door. My footsteps slowed on the last stairwell as I spotted Doris chatting to a few ladies, and the bag I was carrying suddenly seemed much heavier.

I figured that either Edward, or Angela, had mentioned his leaving to Doris--at least I hoped so. I really didn't care to have that conversation a second time. Then again, I didn't want to have to sneak past her for the rest of my stay, either. Finally gathering my nerves and making sure I had a good grip on the railing, I walked down the rest of the steps and over to Doris, just as the other women made their way over to the café. "Morning, Doris," I said softly.

She turned in surprise and broke into a wide grin. "Oh, good morning, Isabella!" she said warmly, grasping my shoulder with her hand that wasn't holding a coffee cup. "How are you feeling? I was so worried yesterday when Angela said you were ill!"

"I'm fine," I said, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry to worry you."

"Goodness," she said, rubbing my arm. "I'm certainly glad you're up and about. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I promise," I answered honestly. "I was just fighting something off, I guess."

Doris gave me a small, sympathetic smile and pinched my cheek in a grandmother-like fashion. "Well, let's hope it stays away. As much as I love this place, I'd hate to see you cooped up in bed during your visit."

I glanced at my feet, and she was silent for a few moments. _Here it comes. _I chewed my thumbnail anxiously, waiting for her to say something about Edward, but I was surprised when she didn't. I supposed she _had _been told, after all. When I finally looked up, it took me a second to figure out that she was eyeing the bag I was carrying and her cheerful expression had sobered.

"Are you going somewhere, dear?" she asked tentatively.

I creased my eyebrows, wondering why she suddenly looked so sad. _She thinks you're leaving, too. _"Oh, no," I started, shaking my head. "Well, yeah, I am, but I'm just going to find a laundromat. I'm running out of clothes." Technically, I had plenty of clothes left to wear, but I was in need of something to pass my time.

_And that's laundry. Congratulations. You're a desperate housewife. Without the house. Or the husband. Or the sexy gardener._

Doris's face lit up again, looking reassured. "Oh! Well, that explains it, doesn't it?"

"Um, I hope it's okay, but I took my sheets with me," I confessed, gesturing to my bag. "I was kind of…well, running a fever and sweating, and I didn't want _you _to have to deal with that. Is it all right if I wash them myself?"

"Oh, honey," Doris said pleasantly, sipping her coffee. "Don't you dare worry about such a thing! Here--let me tell you what--I'll take you back to the laundry room and we'll toss the sheets in with the others, and you can load your clothes back there. I wouldn't want you spending this beautiful day inside a laundromat!"

I turned to the windows, and indeed, along with the golden blanket the sun had laid over the trees, a few people were actually walking around in long-sleeved shirts, without jackets. _That figures. _

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the lodge was one of the last places I wanted to be at the moment, with its familiar walls, aroma, and ambiance. Each room contained Edward's ghost--even the outside picnic table and parking lot reminded me of him.

"I suppose I was just hoping for a change of scenery," I said apologetically. "I was thinking I'd finally explore a little. Maybe I'll drive by Charlie's old house or go visit the beach. I just…need some air, if that makes sense."

Doris pursed her lips in understanding and nodded, squeezing my shoulder again. "There's a place called Laundry 101 just down the street, dear."

She proceeded to point me in the right direction, and I left quickly before I could get a glimpse of one of the crab-snatch twins. As I got into my truck, it struck me that it was Saturday. I'd been at the lodge for over a _week_. I couldn't make up my mind if the time had gone by quickly or slowly, given the events that had taken place…it was almost strange that this time last week, I'd been on my way to breakfast in Port Angeles with--

_You'd better stop it right now. _

I huffed and started backing out of my parking space. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the Laundromat; thankfully, there was a large sign poking vertically into the air, so even my directionally dysfunctional ass couldn't miss it. As I entered, I was met with a piercing scream.

"_I---want---Emm---Ennn---Emmms!"_

A woman and her daughter, I assumed, were standing at the counter marked _'Drop-Off Service' _and the little girl was jumping up and down in a tantrum, sending her curly hair flying. She pulled on her mother's shirt and pointed to the far wall as she screamed. The young girl behind the desk gave me a look that was half apologetic, half _'Please get me out of here.'_ I gave her a sympathetic smile and made my way to the corner, farthest from the counter--and the noise.

"M&Ms, Mommy!"

"Olivia Stanley!" the woman finally cried. "Stop it. Mommy's trying to pay."

I peeked over to the counter in time to see the little girl stomp her feet. "Humph!" she cried in a huff, folding her arms across her chest crossly.

_Stanley?! There's two of them?! God must seriously be laughing his ass off at you. _

I quickly fed a few dollars into a change machine and glanced around. I hadn't been inside a Laundromat since college, and though this one was smaller than my school's, it was similar. Rows of washers and dryers lined the walls, and two vending machines stocked with junk food and juice, along with detergent and dryer sheets, stood next to the windows.

I bought a couple packets of liquid detergent and antistatic sheets, then caved and got myself a pack of blueberry Poptarts. To hell with being healthy. After I stuffed two washing machines full of sheets and clothes, I sat on a chair, leaning back against the cool glass window. As I munched my sugary, saturated fat breakfast, I concentrated on the running water and vibrating motor sounds coming from the laundry machines, mixed with the temper tantrum still being thrown by mini Stanley. I regretted not bringing my earphones.

I stared blankly at my laundry as it began swirling around inside the washer, suds and cloth crashing into the glass door, rolling and toppling in a hypnotizing swell. It was dizzying, I was so caught up in watching the visual, I practically tuned out all noise…

"Well, hello there, Ms. Bella."

I jerked in my seat, startled at the voice, and Poptart crumbs spilled down my shirt. Mr. Miller was standing to my right, smiling down at me in amusement.

"You're a jumpy one, aren't you?" he said lightheartedly, setting two bags, one large and one small, atop a washing machine. "My apologies, missy."

"Oh, it's okay," I said quickly, brushing crumbs of my shirt, shaking myself out of my daze. "Just lost in my thoughts again."

"Ah, well, I was once told that, 'Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream at night,'" he said, pulling a roll of change out of his pocket. "Count yourself one of the lucky ones."

The man had been taught by Robert Frost, and was now quoting Edgar Allan Poe. I didn't remember any of my grandfathers, as they'd died before I was old enough to have any memories of them; I wondered if Mr. Miller's grandchildren realized how fascinating he was.

"And you called yourself poetry-ignorant," I said with a small smile. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too, hon," Mr. Miller said, pulling a bundle of shirts out of the large bag and loading them into the washer. When he was finished, he pointed to the chair next to me and asked, "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh, no--please," I said, scooting my chair over so he had a bit more room. I glanced out the window, seeing that only my truck remained in the parking lot since the woman and her little screamer had left. "Did you walk here?"

"Sure did," he answered, straightening his trademark burgundy tie. "I try not to let anything but the rain keep me from my walks…laundry, I can conquer along the way." He reached into the small bag he had been carrying and pulled out a little box, which he unfolded, revealing a wooden chess set. He turned to me. "Care to join me in battle while we wait?"

I smiled, welcoming the warm feeling that came from having a familiar someone with whom to pass the time. I now knew why Angela had originally called him Bobby Fischer; he was so skilled and thoughtful, and stopped several times to gently point out rookie mistakes and game-changing strategies. I stayed quiet, soaking up his advice, glad to have something different to put my mind to. Eventually, though we kept playing, our chatter went from chess to my college classes, to his retirement as an electrical engineer, and before I knew it, my washers were beeping, ready to be emptied.

I loaded one dryer full of my clothes, tossing a dryer sheet inside as well. As I pulled my sheets and pillowcases out of the other washer, I noticed a fold of blue fabric stuck in between the white cotton.

_Edward's shirt. Of course. _

I tugged it out of the confines of the sheet and shook out the wrinkles. The smell of him would be gone, now, replaced by two-dollar detergent; and, after it came out of the dryer, there would be a metallic, faux-perfumed dryer sheet scent covering it. Oh, well. I'd been sweating all over it anyway; it would have needed to be washed sooner or later. His shorts were probably stuck in there, too…

"You really do have an affinity for Frost, don't you?" came Mr. Miller's voice. He was watching me and my fixed stare on the shirt, probably thinking I was a complete, fucking space cadet.

"Oh," I said, giving him a quick glance before hastily shoving the shirt into the dryer, with the sheets. "It's just a coincidence. It's…someone else's."

_Maybe you should say something that doesn't make you sound like you collect boys' belongings as your little tramp trophies._

"I mean--I kind of borrowed it from a friend and didn't get a chance to give it back," I confessed, even though I knew that wasn't completely true--I'd never had an intention of giving Edward back his shirt, unless he asked.

Mr. Miller was quiet for a few moments. "Something tells me he didn't ask for it back for a reason."

My fingers froze from feeding quarters into the dryer's coin slot. I glanced over my shoulder at his pensive eyes, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. A small ache, reminiscent of the one from the day before, pulsed in my chest as I turned both dryers on. Biting my bottom lip, I slowly slid back into my chair.

"How did you know it was…_his_?" I asked softly, suddenly taking an interest in a small tear in my jeans. There was no need to say his name. We both knew.

"I suppose it was a good guess," he said. "That look in your eyes, missy--it mirrors the same one he was sporting the day he left. I've never seen such a matched sadness, you know."

I wished I hadn't eaten both Poptarts; I needed something to chew other than my thumbnail or lip. "You spoke to him?"

"Briefly, that evening," Mr. Miller said with a small sigh. "I was on my way inside and stopped to say hello. I imagine you know much more than I do, but he seemed more upset than usual."

The churning water that was still rushing through Mr. Miller's machines mirrored the actions of my stomach. _That evening._ "Because of me," I said, pulling one of my knees to my chest. "I did something stupid and he was angry."

Mr. Miller raised his eyebrows. "I don't think so, Ms. Bella," he said honestly, and I gave him a curious look.

_What did Edward say to him?!_

"Like I said, we didn't talk for long," he said, answering my thought, and he reached into his small bag once again, fishing around for something. "But he did ask me to give you this."

I watched him, feeling my hands begin to shake, waiting for whatever he was talking about to come into view. I expected a note--something he had written in case he wanted to jump in his car and leave before I had gotten back from Newton's. But instead, Mr. Miller handed me a small, square CD case.

_Ludovico Einaudi._

Mr. Miller sat patiently as I stared, and I finally took it into my trembling hand. I had jokingly made a comment about Edward burning me a copy, but I hadn't expected him to give me his own. What did that mean, then? Did he want me to have it to remember him by? Maybe he wanted me to think of it as an apology, or have it for my own enjoyment? Like I could really enjoy it _now_. I circled the case in my hands for awhile, before tucking it into my purse. If I started thinking too much about it now, unwanted tears had the potential to pour down my face, and I wasn't about to start crying in a goddamned Laundromat.

"Thank you," I mumbled to Mr. Miller, zipping my purse closed. _Change the subject._ "Did he say anything else?"

_Or, you can continue being a glutton for punishment. Whatever helps you _cry _at night._

Mr. Miller scratched the back of his head. "He might have said that he wouldn't blame you if you broke it in half."

I scoffed a small laugh and brought my other knee to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. "This is so stupid," I said quietly, unable to stop the words from pouring out of my mouth. "I didn't come here to meet a guy…and when I did, I certainly didn't expect to get so attached, so invested. Pretty childish of me, don't you think?"

"On the contrary, missy, I don't think anyone has control over who they begin to care for," Mr. Miller said leniently. "Whether you're a child or an old man like me, some things have the power to get under your skin, into your soul, and there's no stopping it."

I twirled a piece of my hair, thinking that, even if it was true, I should have known better.

"You know, when I was probably even younger than you, I was actually a fairly bitter young man," Mr. Miller continued with a grin on his face. "I fell into the clutches of a girl named Lucy Bethesda. Little soul-sucker, she was," he added with a wink.

"She strung me along for two years, like a hungry pooch, knowing full-well that I would do anything she asked," he said. "Sure, she told me she loved me and even said she wanted to get married under a willow tree with me by her side. I believed her…until she went and eloped with my best friend, Drew."

I winced. "Ouch."

"Yes, ouch, indeed," he said with a chuckle. "I spent the next year hating the world, thinking that I'd never let myself get so wrapped up in a woman again_, 'so help me God,_' and all that mess. I had a full intention of being an engineer, and an eternal bachelor.

"The summer before I started an internship, I worked at a carnival, as one of those boys behind the game stands--the one where you try to pop a balloon with a dart. My boss was a short, chunky man with an attitude that made mine seem saintly. One day, he came around and started giving me a mouthful about blowing the balloons up with too much air, and how I needed to use more dark colors--the bosses thought the brighter balloons were easier to pop, if you'll believe that baloney."

He gave me a friendly nudge with his arm and I couldn't help but smile a bit, feeling the tension that was thick across my shoulders begin to dissipate.

"Anyway, there was a girl behind him who had walked up to the stand, and even when I tried to tell my boss that a customer was behind him, he kept on ranting," said Mr. Miller with a glint in his eye. "She was beautiful--took me by surprise, seeing as how I'd committed myself to love-isolation, and all. But she stood, listening, and her cheeks went pink, and before I knew it, she picked up a dart and threw it straight at my boss--got him right in his flabby, old neck, she did."

His amusement at the memory made me giggle.

"It was one hell of a way to capture my attention," he continued. "The sound of her laugh was what did me in. One little moment, and I was a different person--a better person." He gave me a thoughtful look. "But sometimes, it takes more than a moment to realize what's right for you. Everyone's built differently."

I nodded, letting his words sink in. "Did you ever talk to her? The girl?"

He suddenly appeared much younger, his face boyish and pleasant as he beamed. "I married her."

His smile was contagious. "What's her name?" I asked.

"Anna was her name."

_Was. _The corners of my mouth fell little by little and I pulled at the loose fabric of my jeans. "Oh," I said softly. "I'm sorry."

I watched as his smile faltered just a bit, and he turned to me. "I lost her three years ago, but she hasn't left me completely. I'd like to think she's watching me every now and again," he said pensively. "Sounds a bit kooky, maybe, but it keeps the sadness at bay. That, I and don't doubt that I'll be with her again, in time."

I nodded, and we were silent for a few moments. He didn't seem unhappy, but the light that had been shining in his hazel eyes had dimmed ever so slightly, and he was staring into space. I hesitated for a few moments, trying to think of something to say, and eventually, I placed my hand atop his cool, weathered one, which was bearing a faintly scuffed, but still shiny, golden wedding band.

"Will you tell me about her?" I asked.

Mr. Miller glanced over down at our hands and then back up at me, and the glow began to radiate in his eyes again. "Sure, I will, missy."

Contentedly, I listened to numerous stories as he brought his happy memories to life through speech. I'd rarely heard of a marriage that hadn't ended in divorce: Renee and Charlie; Renee and Phil; even Charlie's parents had split up before their deaths. And if I could remember correctly, I'd had a sixth-grade teacher who had a nervous breakdown, or some kind of fit, because of her marriage ending. I'd always chalked it up to something that was inevitable, but listening to Mr. Miller, and hearing the affection pour from his mouth, in regards to his wife, was enlightening.

The time passed quickly--almost too quickly--and before I knew it, both of us had folded our laundry and packed our bags full. We walked outside, and the warm sun felt fresh on my face. My fever had been cathartic, flushing the emotional wreckage and turmoil out of me, and my impromptu chat with Mr. Miller was uplifting; now, there was simply pure, fresh air to take in. I was thankful for the relief.

"Would you like a ride back?" I offered, gesturing toward my truck.

Mr. Miller smiled, but shook his head. "No, thank you, Ms. Bella. These knees are made of steel. I feel like I shouldn't waste them while they last."

"I understand," I said with a laugh. "I might go for a walk, too, actually. I was thinking of visiting La Push; my dad used to take me to First Beach when I was little. Either that, or I'll go explore one of the trails Doris was telling me about. A few of the other guests were heading into the woods this morn--"

During my rambling, Mr. Miller's buoyant expression suddenly changed again, growing serious. He gazed at me peculiarly, almost grimly, and pursed his lips as if he was about to speak.

"What did I say?" I asked.

He gave a small sigh and a halfhearted smile. "Nothing, missy. Don't mind me."

I narrowed my eyes, then glanced over my shoulder to see if there was someone approaching us, or some other kind of sight I was missing. But there was nothing. I shifted my bag on my shoulder uncomfortably, wondering what had just happened…

_You talked about the beach…maybe he can foresee your incapable ass drowning in a puddle. Or maybe he thinks you'll go off a forest trail and become bear food--oh. Wait._

"You really don't like the woods, do you?" I asked curiously, and knew immediately by the knowing look on his face that I had hit the nail on the head. "Did you have a bad camping experience or something?"

Mr. Miller chuckled, though it unenthusiastic and his eyes seemed to harden a bit more. "Not exactly. Just an incident, a long time ago."

I cleared my throat, fidgeting with a snagged thread on my shirt. "I won't pry," I said. "It just seems like you wish I wouldn't…go _in _there. The woods, I mean."

He was silent for a moment before waving his hand in attempted reassurance. "I've heard that most of these parts are safe. I suppose I'm letting my imagination run away with me, that's all. I think I told you before--I'm just an old timer with too many stories."

"But, if it was you, you wouldn't, right?"

Mr. Miller took a few steps toward me, stopping only when we were very close.

"I don't usually say much about things of this nature," he said, looking around us, as if someone might be listening. "Like I said, the woods…most of them, anyway, are--how shall I say--_protected _in this area. But nothing's one hundred percent certain."

I creased my eyebrows, confused. Sighing, he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You're asking if I would dare to walk past the trees and into the deeper parts? Honestly, missy? No. I wouldn't."

I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling uncertain about how to respond. I never had a fear of the woods; Charlie used to take me hiking and exploring all the time when I was younger. Even when he would visit me in Florida, he sometimes took me camping in one of the more woodsy areas. But the way Mr. Miller was looking at me, and hearing the fear in his voice…it gave me a chill.

"I suppose I'm saying just be careful, whatever you do," he said, tapping the underside of my chin gently. "I'll be seeing you soon, Ms. Bella. It was nice talking with you."

I raised my hand in a languid goodbye, and watched him begin his trek up Forks Avenue, in the direction of the lodge.

_Mysterious little man_. _This place is full of them._

I sighed, shuffling my shoes into the concrete as I walked back toward my truck. Once I was inside, lopsidedly propping my laundry bag against the window, my eyes drifted to my purse, and the newest addition to my music collection.

_Don't. Put on some heavy metal. Christian rock. The fucking Wiggles. Anything else._

I turned on my radio, which started spewing some kind of college football game at me. I breathed a sigh. _Sports are good. They're manly and unromantic._

I adjusted my rearview mirror, preparing to back up, and then, out of the blue, a huge Laundry 101 delivery truck pulled up behind my tailgate, blocking my exit from the parking space. A man hopped out of the driver's seat and jogged to the door. He spotted me, gave a glance at the predicament, and grimaced.

"I'll just be one second, okay, hon?" he said, looking apologetic.

I waved, nodding politely, not really caring. I wasn't in a hurry or anything, but without the distraction of driving, that CD was _especially _burning a hole in my purse. I exhaled forcefully, thinking that maybe I should just put it in, reminisce, and get the urge out while it was still early--maybe then I could put all of this behind me, for now, and get on with my time.

_It's just music. It's not like he recorded you a personal Hallmark message._

Finally, I snatched my purse, yanked out the CD, opened the case and glided the disc into my CD player. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, slightly embarrassed that my heart was beginning to race. The first track was unfamiliar to me, and I sat quietly for a minute before picking up the CD case to look at the back. The first track was called _Uno. Primavera _was number six; I felt a childish urge to skip through the others just to get to it. Instead, I let the music continue and opened the case again, intending on flipping through the little paper booklet for information.

My hand froze when I realized something I had missed when I first opened it:

Handwriting.

I pulled the booklet out from the confines of the case and realized it had been folded to an inside page where not a lot print was exposed. Over a faint design, a small script covered the little space.

_Bella,_

_I'm sorry I never got a chance to make you a copy,_

_and if this seems like an insincere gift, I'm sorry for that, too._

_I'm sorry for a lot of things._

_I owe you so much more than music, but I hope you'll_

_realize that this is the only thing I can give you that_

_won't hurt you in the end._

_I'll miss you, and won't forget you. _

_Edward_

I read it once, then again, and then one more time before I actually let out my breath, which I hadn't realized I was holding. My chest wavered between throbbing and freezing, and I was stuck in purgatory over his words. What he wrote was thoughtful, but final. A second goodbye.

I sat, my back stuck against the seat, digging my fingernails into the fabric of my shirt, waiting for pain that made sense. None came, because for the moment, I could make sense of nothing.

-:-

**This chapter felt like one of those "necessary" chapters, where nothing very exciting happened, and it had a certain sl00000wness about it. I'm sorry** **for that. I have a feeling everyone's thinking, "…Yeah….I miss Edward." I miss him, too. I'll work on bringing him back soon.**

**On a brighter note, this story got third place in the Sparkle Awards! That makes me squeal. You guys are the best--thank you so much. I'd hug every one of you if I could. Much love! : )**


	21. Whispers and Wanting

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I suppose, one day, I could technically buy the rights if I win some kind of lottery or marry a plastic surgeon--oh, who am I kidding? It's not mine.**

**I suck so bad at answering reviews--honestly, I answered a handful, but spent more time working on this than going back and giving back the love that I received. I plan on replying to you all! I really do. That is my pre-New Year's resolution. : ) Seriously, my loves, I'm in awe over all of your words. If it hadn't been for the encouragement and loveliness of all of you, I don't know how I would have gotten past this chapter. RL can kick my ass, but you girls (and guys? who knows!) make it worth it. Also, endless thanks and giggles for the reviewers that had my back regarding the nasty PMs I received. Lilacs46 even offered to be my Fierce Fic Backlash Receptionist. ;) Hon, I love you.**

**Also, I'm so dumb. I forgot to tell you all to please, kindly, check out Banner 3 on my profile, as it was made by AngstGoddess003 for the FGB charity auction (Alex's Lemonade). It's awesome.**

**This was beta'd by me. *Snort* We'll see how that goes. :P Also, read this in 3/4 format, at least, if not 1/2. I'm begging you. ;)**

**Oh, yeah--it's Christmas Eve! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Holidays to everyone!**

-:-

I expected the remaining days of my vacation to pass in slow, blank, gaping holes of loneliness, and longing. I anticipated boredom. I figured I'd probably even sink into some sort of weird depression, considering the emotional turmoil that had occurred after Edward's departure, and end up going home early. But after sitting in my truck, listening to Ludovico Einaudi on repeat for too long, I stuffed the CD and Edward's note into the glove box, and decided: no. That was _not _going to happen.

Charlie had paid for me to stay at the lodge for a month, after all, and unless I wanted to run back home to an empty apartment, the career want-ads, and parents who looked at me with overly-concerned faces, I needed to get my act together. I wanted what I had come to Forks for, what I had intended to get from the start: a break.

My days consisted of exploring the town, and periodically having breakfast with Mr. Miller, or Doris, when she had the time. I usually met Angela for lunch, and if I wasn't hanging out with her and Ben in the evening, I was helping Tom with dinner preparations. I'd landed myself an impromptu job in the kitchen, one day, while sweeping the café for Doris. Jessica had walked inside the front door, and I all but flew into the kitchen in an attempt to hide from her. It wasn't really _fear _that made me want to avoid her; I just felt the need to keep my distance so I wouldn't shove the broom up her ass.

As I stumbled into the kitchen, I managed to trip over the broom, fall against the counter, and accidentally plunge my hand into a bowl of a batter-like substance. Tom looked up from mixing a huge bowl of chicken salad, smiling widely, and said, "Well, if you wanted to give me a hand with the cooking, Bella, all you had to do was ask."

I had to admit that my days were full, and even fun. But then, at night, my heart went where my mind tried so desperately not to go.

It was a warm night, which was rare, and my window was open, letting in the fall breeze, which rustled and blew the curtains. I sat with my back against my bed, my hoodie draped over my knees. It was a pretty morbid thing to do, staring so intently at something that was both insulting and sorrowful, but I'd had the damn thing for three years, and I wanted to say goodbye properly before chucking it into the garbage. My familiar, tainted sweatshirt had been balled up in the corner for the past week, and only tonight, after cleaning my room, did I finally pull it from its abandonment. Honestly, I had forgotten it was there.

Ignoring the last two words in their mocking, fuchsia scrawl, which I figured out was nail polish, I traced my fingers over the flaking letters that spelled his name. The inevitable wondering was what usually pulled me into a trance: where he was, if he had found what he was looking for, if he was in trouble…or if he was even still alive. I tried to tell myself that he was fine, and I naively hoped that he was just brooding in his car or giving in, finally letting the police handle things. But I knew, if either of those possibilities were true, he probably would have called me. If he meant what he said when he had left, he wouldn't have a reason _not _to call…at least, I could only presume as much.

It had been sixteen days since Edward had gone. I shouldn't have expected anything; he'd said goodbye in every way he could have, and yet, some tragic, stubborn corner of my soul wouldn't let me purge him from my mind. It was unlikely that he hadn't found my letter, yet; possible, but still doubtful. I'd been in a hurry when I wrote it, and it definitely wasn't the most eloquent of all things spoken between pen and paper, but none of my statements were hasty in thought, only penmanship.

_Maybe he hasn't called because he couldn't read your crappy handwriting. Or, maybe you spelled a bunch of words wrong and he doesn't want to associate with an illiterate jackass._

Whatever the reason, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself that he was okay, I couldn't shake an awful feeling that, wherever he was, he was suffering, somehow. I breathed a sigh, stood up, and tried to force myself out of my Edward-induced daze.

I shook the wrinkles out of my hoodie, briefly considering cutting his name out of the back and patching it up, leaving "Little Slut," and placing it on Jessica's car window, out of spite. Eventually, I just folded it into an unkempt square and tossed it to the side, figuring I'd throw it out another day.

Yawning, I climbed into bed and turned off the lamp. It had been a long, lazy night; I'd spent hours at Angela's apartment, watching movies and consuming an incalculable amount of junk food, and I was actually looking forward to sleeping off my food coma. I checked my phone to set my alarm, and then realized it was off--a dead battery, probably. I groaned and leaned over the side of the bed to grasp my charger's cord, and plugged its poor, cracked carcass into the adapter. I flipped it open and the screen flickered to life, and I briefly saw the time was twelve forty-three AM, before noticing the little, yellow envelope icon in the bottom, left corner.

I had a message. One new voicemail.

My fingers started to press buttons so fast that I actually misdialed my message line, and put in an incorrect password twice before hearing the automated operator:

"You have one new voice message. First message…"

My heart beat furiously and I waited with bated breath for the voice that I was longing to hear.

"Uh, hey, Bella."

My eyes narrowed. _Who the fuck is _that_?_

"It's Brandon…the, uh, guy from the bar last week? Or--wait, it was longer than that, wasn't it? Anyway, I was just wondering--"

I hastily snapped my phone shut and managed to restrain from throwing it at the wall, feeling incomprehensibly irritated. I took a few moments to breathe through my frustrations, though it didn't stop angry tears from forming in my eyes. My anger wasn't directed toward Brandon--just myself. I was getting way too worked up over Edward, who didn't want my help, and that was _his _choice to make. I certainly had no good reason to linger around, pining or worrying to the point of tears.

"This is bullshit," I mumbled to myself, wiping my eyes. "You need to stop this _right _n--"

And then my phone rang.

I was frozen for a moment, simply staring at it as the ring echoed throughout my room.

_Ugh. Really?!_

Due to its broken screen, I wouldn't be able to see who was calling unless I flipped the phone open, which would connect me immediately on speakerphone, and I certainly didn't want to talk to _Brandon_, if it really _was _him. Renée and Charlie were undoubtedly asleep, seeing as they were three hours ahead of me. Maybe it was Angela. Maybe she got an emergency call into work and she'd just saved a life, and wanted to share.

_Maybe you should answer the _phone, _spazz!_

"Shit," I muttered, and finally pressed send. "Hello?"

Silence.

I tried again. "Hello?" There was a little bit of static, but still, no answer. Maybe I'd accidentally hung up on whoever it was. I flipped my phone open and saw that the call was still active, flashing a number that I didn't recognize. And it wasn't a Florida or Washington area code.

_No. It wouldn't be._

I gripped my phone tightly, my breath catching in my throat. "E-Edward? Is that you?"

I was frantic, now, thinking that the silence was due to poor reception. I jumped out of bed and ran out into the hallway, bracing myself against the banister. "Edward? Hello? Can you hear me?"

The distant sound of a car horn was my answer. Anyone who had dialed a wrong number would have probably hung up by now. And if the caller couldn't hear me, surely they would be echoing my _'Hello?' _Wouldn't they? It _had _to be him. And he wasn't responding, and that was _not good_. All I heard was a small intake of breath, and the sound caused my heart to skip a beat. My stomach writhed at the dreadful possibilities, with which my mind was brewing. Was he _hurt_, or just not speaking?

"Say something," I demanded anxiously. "Please. Edward, _please_."

But then, there was a click. _Call Ended, _my phone mocked_._ I took a quick breath and gripped the railing, feeling my legs turn to rubber as I slid down to the floor. A whirlwind of rampant thoughts ran though my head, making me dizzy with worry.

_He's hurt. He's dying. He did it--he killed that man. Or, he's drunk. Drunk dialing. Or he dialed by mistake. But he would have had to physically enter your number--he didn't have it before. That means he read your letter. Holy shit. Did he change his mind? Did he just want to taunt you with one more goodbye? Or maybe---what the hell are you thinking?! Call him _back_!_

That quickly, I'd forgotten that an actual phone number had come up on the screen--not an unknown or private one--an _accessible _one. I scrolled to my Received Calls list and swiftly pushed send, holding the phone to one ear while I raked my other hand through my hair, pushing through the tangles without care.

It rang and rang, and rang, and continued for the next few minutes--I was going to be persistent, damn it. That's what he would get for calling and then hanging up on me. Once a considerable amount of time had gone by, I ended the call, checked the time, and then dialed again. I never received a voicemail greeting; maybe he hadn't called me from his cell phone. Or maybe he didn't even _have _voicemail.

I hung up again after an absurd amount of rings, sighing. I knew that if he really didn't want to talk, he wouldn't take the call. I could waste my night, and my monthly minutes, and even continue to call back for hours. Or, I could go to sleep and try again in the morning. My stomach churned uncomfortably, knowing that whether he had an actual problem or not, I wouldn't be able to help, considering my location.

_Try one more time._

I rubbed my forehead, which was aching, trying to iron out the twisted muscles that felt permanently cramped under my skin. I hit redial, and slumped against one of the pillars, sinking closer to the carpet. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

_Four. Five. It probably wasn't even him. Six. Seven. Eig--_

"Yeah?"

I sat up so fast, I almost lost my grip on the phone. "Um…hello?" I said, not recognizing the unknown man's voice.

"I said '_Yeah?_'"

_Well, good lord._

"I--is--can I speak to Edward, please?" I asked, not sure who the hell I was talking to, or what location I had even called.

"Edward?" the man repeated. "Ain't no Edward, here, sugar."

_Shit. _"Where exactly is '_here_?'" I questioned, thinking that I could at least find out if he was in Minnesota, as that was where he'd been heading, the last I knew. Of course, that was over two weeks ago.

"A payphone," the man answered.

_Yeah, that helps, jackass_. I clenched my teeth, holding myself back from screaming. "I mean, what city and state, please?"

"Chicago, doll. Do I have to spell out the state for you?"

_Chicago. It _was _him. Why was he back in his hometown?_

"Listen," I said, frantically twirling my hair between my fingers. "You didn't see anyone walking around a few minutes ago? A tall guy, wearing a brown jacket?"

_If he even kept it._

There was a pause before he said, "Well, maybe. I thought I saw--I don't know. No one's in sight."

I sighed, and the phone suddenly felt like a solid chunk of steel in my hand. "Okay…thanks." Hanging up was the man's goodbye, and I let my phone slide out of my hand, onto the floor. The pillar was cool against my cheek as I leaned against it, not caring how pathetic I might look. I could feel more tears creeping into the corners of my eyes, so I tightly shut them, refusing to shed anymore.

_Why would he _do _that? _That wasn't _just _a phone call--it was a teasing, mysterious connection that completely _gutted _my insides, making me think the worst--though, I supposed he was _physically _okay. It wasn't like the man had said 'I don't know any Edwards, and the corpse on the ground next to me isn't talking, so…'

Eventually, I found the strength to drag myself back to my room and crawl into bed. I turned off the lights and reached under my pillow for Edward's shirt; shamefully, I continued to keep it there for comfort. I put it on over my nightgown and smoothed my hand over the inscription that hit too close to home, trying to imagine the long-faded vanilla scent that had been so provocative. I stared at my phone, which I'd placed on my night table, and shivered, despite the thick comforter, wondering what could have been on his mind to make him unable to say even _one _word.

Silence was empty, and it left room in my mind for nothing but horrible thoughts. I found myself growing angry that he would do such a thing, but not enough to overshadow my fear. I closed my eyes tightly, and it seemed to take an eternity for reality to slip away, shifting me into a different darkness.

When I opened my eyes, silver light speckled from a onyx sky, reflecting off the watery street like glitter. The road was silent, empty. I walked toward a lighter path, listening to echoing drops of water splatter the earth. Rain, I supposed. When I held up my hands to feel the sprinkle, nothing touched my open palms…yet, the phantom droplets continued to sound.

The street turned into an alley with high walls, and I was suddenly in a concrete labyrinth. There only seemed to be one direction in which to go, and my feet carried me forward, trudging with dull, thudding footsteps, in tandem with the constant dripping. My breath quickened at each corner I approached, afraid of the unknown--of what I might find beyond the wall. Wind pelted my back, pushing me onward, and as I rounded more bends, my apprehension increased--something wasn't right. This was _not _safe. But I couldn't turn back--behind me, the path had disappeared.

Shadows shifted like storm clouds, and the ground around me grew darker…but, suddenly, there was light ahead, beyond the next wall. I quickened my steps, running toward it. The closer I got, the louder the dripping became; it was like a continuous heartbeat, seemingly right next to my ear, but still, I felt nothing. When I turned the corner, I saw that the illumination came from a rusted, flickering streetlight.

There was someone hunched below it.

I stiffened, untrusting of this stranger, but all of a sudden, a low, ominous rumble came from the darkness behind me--thunder? Another person? Whatever it was, it didn't sound welcoming. I couldn't go back.

Instead of running, I carefully walked by the slouching figure, but then stopped, thinking maybe they could tell me where I was. Their head was bowed, hiding from the light, and their arms hung limply by their sides. As I drew nearer, they granted me a quick look, and I only saw a brief flash of their eyes. I would know those evergreen eyes anywhere.

"_Edward!" _I cried, running over and dropping to my knees. He didn't look up again, so I tried to tilt his face toward mine; his head felt heavy in my hands. "What happened? Where are we?"

As I spoke, the humming growl from around the corner grew louder, accompanied by slow, dragging thumps. _Footsteps_. Someone was coming.

"Come on, we've got to leave!" I pleaded with Edward, pulling his shoulders, but he wouldn't move, except to grant me a glassy stare.

"_Go_," he whispered.

I shook my head and tugged his shirt. "Come with me!"

Still, he remained glued to the spot, leaning his head back against the streetlight's pole, and the light hit his shirt, shining brightly. The ghostly raindrop resonance was back with a ferocity, growing louder, and suddenly, dark splotches--shadows--were spreading across Edward's chest. I grasped his hands to pull him away from the darkness that was threatening to consume us, but I wasn't strong enough, and he slumped further against the light post. My hands slipped away from his, covered in something warm and wet. I looked down in confusion, only to see a stream of liquid cascading down his arms, dribbling over his fingertips, and splattering the ground.

I gasped. The echo I'd been hearing wasn't rain, and the shadows on his shirt were not shadows at all; it was blood. _His blood_. He was covered in it.

I didn't even have time to scream, for at that moment, the cause of the mysterious footsteps rounded the corner, taking shape as a monstrous, looming, shadowed figure. I stared in shock as the man, if it _was _a man, tilted his dark head, peering at us curiously. He almost blended into the night's background; if it hadn't been for the menacing, snarling breath emanating from him, it would have been difficult to sense where he was standing. I clutched Edward's bleeding body to my chest, and tried, once again, to pull him to his feet. We needed to get away.

"Bella," Edward rasped into my ear, and I could feel his blood run down my neck in a hot stream. "_Run_."

And then, as if the order had been given to the sinister man, he ran straight for us.

I only caught the end of my scream as I woke, jerking myself to a sitting position and scrambling backward until I hit the headboard. Cries that I didn't even recognize as my own spilled from my mouth, and I quickly clamped my hand over my lips to stifle the sound. I dug my fingers into my shirt, and actually fucking _hid _my eyes, even though I couldn't see anything in the dark, anyway.

_It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real._

My chest heaved with my panicked gasps, and I reached for my comforter, desperate to have something to wrap around myself so I didn't feel so alone. It was missing; I could only assume I kicked it off the bed during my nightmare. I whimpered like a scared child as I stretched my hand down to the floor to retrieve it, then quickly turned on my light, half expecting to expose an apparition of my dream that had breached reality.

Of course, I was alone. No blood. No shadowy murderers. No Edward.

I stayed enclosed in my blanket for hours, and did not sleep again until the sun came up.

-:-

"Mom, for the last time, I _know_."

From the other end of the call, Renee sighed, her motherly huff mixing with the static. "I just want to make sure you have everything together. I really wish you would consider taking a plane. It's not too late for you to book a ticket."

"I like the train," I argued. "Besides, I already paid for my boarding pass."

"I'll reimburse you, baby. Five days is a long time to be on a train, traveling by yourself. Are you worried about your truck? If you get home earlier, it's not like you won't have something else to drive."

It was the morning before I would be dropping off my truck to a transport service in Seattle, then boarding a train for Jacksonville, and Renée was freaking out. I chuckled. "My truck will probably beat me there. I'm just craving some scenery, I guess."

I kicked my legs back and forth on a bench outside the lodge, listening to Renée vent her worries and last-minute reminders. Truthfully, I'd always planned on flying home, but as I started counting down the days to the end of my stay, my stomach felt heavy--the inevitable disappointed feeling of returning to reality, after a long vacation. I _had _missed Jacksonville, but I wasn't exactly eager to dive back into my boring, run of the mill life. Forks had been therapeutic: it provided me with time to reflect on my past, an opportunity to meet new people, and a whole new sense of myself; although, now, it felt like I was leaving half of that part behind, instead of taking it with me.

And I couldn't pretend _not to _understand why things felt unfinished, but that was something I was going to have to deal with, no matter where I went.

"Mom, calm down, none of my bills will be late. I already told you that I paid them online," I continued, turning to look down the parking lot as I heard tires rolling up the rocky hill. "Five more days isn't going to hurt. I'll--ooh, I have to go, okay? Angela's here."

Angela's Camaro came into view and I hopped up from the bench, waving to her as she parked. "I'll call you later tonight, okay, Mom?"

"All right," Renée said, probably figuring that she wasn't going to win. "Be careful."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Love you."

I hung up as Angela got out of her car, holding two water bottles, and jogged toward me, decked out in professional workout attire. Next to her, my sweatpants and t-shirt seemed vastly mediocre. "Helloooo," she called with a smile. "Are you ready for this?"

"I can't believe this is my last day and you want to torture me," I joked, grinning back. Oddly, the weather forecast had predicted temperatures in the low _seventies _for today, and Angela had actually talked me into a physical activity. We were going for a run. A _three-mile _run. I was fairly certain that I was going to die.

Angela laughed. "You're going to be fine. Are you wearing a sports bra?"

"No," I said, snorting with a giggle. "I don't even think I own one. I'm not exactly…sporty."

Angela handed me one of the plastic bottles. Nalgene. The bottle was _brand-named_. I was _so _out of my element. "Well, you're coming back to run that marathon with me next summer, right? Just consider this the start of your training."

"I said I'd _watch _you run a marathon," I said, shifting my weight on my thin, non-defined legs. All I'd ever practiced was yoga; maybe a little cardio would be beneficial. If I kept it up, maybe I'd finally tone up instead of looking like a breakable, little girl.

"Oh, you're doing it--you just wait," Angela said, nudging my elbow.

We set our bottles to the side and stretched our legs--well, I attempted to copy Angela's movements--and eventually, we started jogging. It wasn't as bad as I thought; sometimes, in Jacksonville, Renée and I would drive to the beach and run along the shore--only, they usually turned into _walks _after five minutes, and then we'd collapse onto the sand to soak up the sun.

Angela didn't give up in five minutes, that was for sure.

We jogged through town, albeit slowly. "Sorry if I'm slowing you down," I panted. "I'm a newbie to small-town cross country."

"_Cross country_," Angela giggled as we ran past the diner. "Bella, you crack me up."

"I'm serious," I said, contemplating asking if we could run to Newton's so I _could _buy a sports bra. I wasn't exactly a D-cup, but my _God_, my boobs were bouncing in Baywatch-motion. _Eat it, Stanley._ "This isn't a track. This is the road. _Uphill_."

Angela just grinned, and I did my best to keep up and not complain. We ended up passing Laundry 101, the town high school, and even Mr. Miller, out on one of his walks. He gave us a wave, and we continued running in silence until I saw…_them_.

"Whoa," I said, trying not to stumble over my feet as my eyes glued themselves to the several bare-chested boys--or men--across the street. Dark hair, unusually tan skin, rippling muscles…and they were _huge_. "Who are they?"

Angela glanced to her left, to the other side of the road. "Oh," she said, seeming unaffected by the seemingly Native American Ken dolls. "A few guys from the Quileute reservation. Ripped, aren't they? I'm pretty sure they only come into town for the food."

I brushed the hair that had bounced loose from my ponytail away from my face. "Some of my dad's friends are from there," I said, granting one last look at the boys before jogging past them. "My truck used to belong to Billy Black, actually."

"Oh, really?" Angela said, glancing over her shoulder once more, as well. "I think that was his son back there--Jacob."

"Jacob?" I repeated, creasing my eyebrows. "I remember him. We were friends... we used to throw mud at each other when we were little."

Angela giggled as we rounded a corner. "You have more ties to this place than I do," she teased.

As Angela clocked our mileage, I mentally tried to count the minutes. It felt as though we had been running for hours. We stopped occasionally to take water breaks, and Angela jogged in place as _I _took breathing-through-the-stitch-in-my-side breaks. When we finally arrived back at the lodge, my lungs felt like lead. Angela literally pulled me up the long drive, promising me food as a reward.

"_Food?_" I groaned as we walked across the parking lot, pulling at my abundantly sweaty shirt. "Dear God, no. I'll puke."

"I'll go light, then," she said, walking toward the lodge's front door. "Orange? Banana? They're good for potassium intake."

"Apple," I insisted. "I'll work on my potassium at dinner."

She chuckled and disappeared inside the lodge. I looked around, wanting desperately to curl up on the ground and wait for my muscles to stop screaming in agony. I was going to be severely sore the next morning--on a _train_, no less. _At least it's more space than an airplane. Sort of._

Angela came back outside and tossed me an apple, and we walked around the corner, to the picnic tables. I gratefully collapsed onto a bench and put my cheek against the grainy wood, not even caring about splinters.

"That was…fun," I said, holding back a moan of pleasure as the wind blew, cooling my body, blowing strands of hair away from my face. "But I think you're on your own for the marathon next year."

Angela unpeeled a banana and laughed. "_Beginners_," she joked. "I promise, next time, we'll just do one mile. How's the weather in December where you live?"

"Oh, no," I said, picking my head up and unscrewing the lid to my water bottle. I took a sip and shook my head. "We will not be exercising on New Year's. That can be my resolution, but not a day before. You can drag Ben to run on the beach."

Determined not to be discouraged over a long-distance friendship, Angela and I had already made plans for her to come to Jacksonville for New Year's festivities, and Ben was working on switching his job hours so that he could accompany her. It was something to look forward to, at least.

We sat silently for awhile after that, eating our fruit and watching the trees sway in the wind. I breathed deeply, soaking up the fresh, autumn air that wasn't going to be available to me much longer. I'd said silent, visual farewells to mostly every part of the lodge, memorizing the beauty of the inside, as well as the outside. I never did get around to setting foot on one of the nature trails…I supposed Mr. Miller would be pleased about that, at least.

"I wonder if Jessica will miss me," I said, smirking, breaking the silence.

Angela snorted. "And, once again, I'm left to deal with the asinine drama all by myself. I really, really wish you would show Doris what she did to your sweatshirt. She would be fired _so _fast…"

"There's no actual proof that it was her," I remarked softly, flicking a rogue splinter with my fingernail. "Besides, I think I'll leave it for her as a little parting gift. Only I'm going to paint over 'Edward' with 'Mike.' Or I _could _just patch over his name and make it say, 'This Little Slut Got Syphilis at Newton's Outfitters.'"

Angela spit out her water and we laughed loudly, rocking back and forth on the bench. "This is why you should stay," she said, still giggling as she stood up. "You say the funniest things. I can't get that anywhere else."

"Ha!" I said. "I'm sure Ben will keep you plenty entertained. Besides, you've put up with me and my drama long enough--if I were you, I'd throw a party after I leave."

"Whatever," Angela said, smacking my arm with her banana peel. "If I'm not the one bawling later, after we've said goodbye, Ben will be."

At her words, a little pang of sadness surpassed the still-winded feeling in my chest. I hated goodbyes, and I was going to miss Angela and Ben immensely--especially her. I stood up, finally, tossing my apple core down the hill. "Yeah," I said dully, turning my back to the trees.

She sighed, looking at me with thoughtful eyes. "Oh, come here, before I _do _cry," she said in a oddly high voice, pulling me into a hug. "I know I said I wouldn't, but--man, I'll miss you."

"Ang," I said weakly, my own eyes starting to fill. "I'll miss you, too. Don't _cry_, or I will!"

Her arms tightened slightly, then loosened, as if she was about to release me; but, suddenly, I felt her fingers dig into my back. I slackened my hold on her shoulders, but, still, she stood solidly, only pulling her head back after another second. Her eyes were wide.

"What?" I asked. "I smell, don't I? I know, I'm a sweaty mess."

Angela's lips parted, her gaze drifting from my eyes to the space behind me. She looked stunned. I creased my eyebrows, confused. What was she staring at? The woods? _Ohhh, shit._

"_What_?" I repeated in a whisper, feeling apprehensive. "Is it--is it a…_bear_?"

She raised her eyebrows, slowly shaking her head 'no.' I felt my heart pick up, trying to think what could be worse than a looming, carnivorous, wild animal…

"Is it _Jessica_?" I asked a bit louder, trying not to panic. Surely, if there was something dangerous behind us, wouldn't she be pulling me away, running like crazy? Instead of answering me, she slowly spun me around to see for myself.

The run we'd just completed was suddenly child's play, because when I locked eyes on what had so aptly captured Angela's attention, it was enough to _fully _take my breath away. I stared, feeling my jaw drop, waiting for the image in front of me to dissipate, or change into something that made sense. I had just run three miles, after all--it was possible that I was hallucinating in the midst of an aneurysm.

Because, standing on the slope of the hill, only twenty feet away, at most, holding my finished apple core--there he was--beautiful, unbroken, and _not _bleeding.

"_Edward_," I breathed.

-:-

**I know, what a place to end, right? This chapter was kind of short (for me, anyway) and I'd planned on adding a lot more, but it would've ended up being too long. I figured this would probably suffice for now. No promises, of course, because if you've been with me long enough, you might know that I've ended up with my foot in my mouth when I've set a time for an update… but I'm hoping (hoping!) to have the next chapter completed by New Year's. That gives me a week. I'll see what I can do! ;)**

**Again, Happy Holidays to everyone! : )**

**I beg you to listen to "Your Ghost" by Kristen Hersh or Greg Laswell, because his voice brings me to my knees. I played both versions on repeat countless times this past week. And it has a hell of a lot to do with the first half of this chapter.**

**I saved the best for last: queenofgrey owns me. She held my hand through this. Thank you, thank you, thank you, hon. That's all : ) (Oh, and I'm very, very aware that I owe you one more chapter of your bday fic! It's coming!)**


	22. Crushing Blows, Velvet & Stone Pt 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own a SpyLight, though (or something of the sort.) I got it for Christmas. It blinds attackers. *Snicker* I'll probably end up blinding myself first.**

**So, yeah-New Years has come and gone, as I was so fondly reminded. Hehe. Sorry. I said "no promises" though! I really did try to make it a personal goal, but holidays, you know? And family parties were hosted, I consumed too much food & got lazy, and I reread The Lovely Bones, and just didn't have the time that I thought I would. Sorry if I disappointed anyone. But I had a rockin' 2 weeks! ;)**

**I hope everyone had a very Happy New Year, and thank you all for the kind holiday wishes. My heart melted, all full of lovey dovey warmth. So yes-enjoy this? I hope?**

-:-

I knew it wasn't considered the most polite thing to do, but I could not stop staring-_gaping_-at him like he had come back from the dead, or was simply an illusion, as I'd thought. He'd been gone for almost three weeks, and I'd hopefully imagined this scenario too many times: going out to my truck to see him leaning against it, waiting for me; walking into the lobby and finding him at one of the café tables; even when I woke in the middle of the night, I'd wait to hear recognizable sounds transpire from the next room, in hopes that he had come back while I'd been asleep. It was baffling that the _one _time I allowed him to slip from my mind, he appeared-and, out of nowhere, too.

Angela broke the long silence first. "Hey, Edward," she said pleasantly, though her voice was still laced with surprise.

_Okay, you're not hallucinating. She sees him, too._

Edward raised his hand slowly, giving us a halfhearted wave. He seemed surprised, too, as if _we _were the ones to emerge out of the blue. Angela cleared her throat and squeezed my shoulders, probably trying to snap me out of my stupor.

"Say something to him," she whispered.

I froze, even more than I already had, my mind racing with questions of how, why, and _what the fuck._ I couldn't even blink-my eyes were fixed on his face, which appeared to be spotted with odd shadows-lighter than the ghastly ones I'd seen in my dreams, but it was discoloration, nonetheless.

"Bella," Angela urged quietly.

Edward stared back at me, and I couldn't ignore the visible confliction radiating out of his familiar, green eyes. _For God's sake, speak!_ "What-why are you holding my apple?" I blurted out.

…_What? _That's _what you come up with?_

He glanced at the apple core he was holding, and I tried to breathe evenly as he took a few steps toward us. His proximity was staggering, and I had a luring impulse to run and throw myself into his arms, just so I could _feel _that he was real with my own hands.

"It hit me when I was laying on the hill," he explained, in turn causing my knees to shake, and I leaned back against Angela. I hadn't heard his voice in weeks. It was a tad rougher than I remembered, but flowed like liquid silk, nonetheless, layering over the impalpable punctures left in my chest, and covering the hollow pain that still lay dormant.

I bit my lip at his answer, wondering why he hadn't made his presence known before; it wasn't as though Angela and I had _just _happened to round the corner! "Were you _spying _on us?" I asked, deepening the crease in my forehead.

"No," he answered quickly, walking even closer. "I must have fallen asleep. I didn't realize…"

He trailed off, suddenly appearing sheepish. Directing his gaze to the grass, he ambled up to the picnic table, spinning the apple core between his fingers. When he looked up, I noticed that the shadows on his face were actually bruises-large splotches of faint blue and green across his cheek, by his hairline, and under his eye. Knowing that he had been hurt was enough to make me feel ill.

"I'll leave you guys to talk," Angela said gently, letting go of my arms and retrieving her water bottles. I tore my eyes away from Edward and looked at her, trying not to come across too helpless; I didn't want her to leave. That meant I would be alone with him, and truthfully, I wasn't sure if I could even stand on my own two feet. "Call me later, okay?" she added.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and watched her disappear around the corner. My hands were shaking, so I clasped them together before turning back to face him. It was difficult to meet his eyes this time; I was still halfway convinced that he was going to vanish, or I was going to wake up-that all of this hadn't been real. Although, it would be an improvement of how I _had _been dreaming of him all week; currently, he was a bit battered, but he wasn't openly bleeding to death, and that was a welcome change.

When I finally looked at him, he sighed quietly and pushed his hands through his hair, having set my almost-devoured piece of fruit on the table. He was so close, I could have reached out and touched him-I wanted to, desperately, but he didn't make a move toward me, so I made myself remain still.

"Hi," he said after a moment.

I immediately wrapped one arm around my waist and put my other fist to my mouth, barely able to stop myself from nervously gnawing away at my thumbnail. I pondered silently for a few moments; I didn't want to say _hello_, like this was some kind of casual exchange. I settled for, "What are you doing here?"

He cleared his throat. "Cleaning up the environment," he said with a small smile, pointing to my apple.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "It was for the animals. Doris said raccoons are always scrounging for food up here. Plus, it's biodegradable…"

"I'm joking," he said softly, running his fingertips over the edge of the wooden table.

"Ha ha," I said dully, not exactly feeling up to being teased. A few moments passed before I asked, "When did you get here?"

Edward glanced at his wrist, which was bare-the watch he'd always worn was missing. Clasping his hand around the spot where it used to be, he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe an hour ago, if I was going to guess."

I waited to see if he would say anything else, but he only crossed his arms tightly across his chest and shifted his weight, looking periodically from me, to the ground.

"Are you staying long?" I asked, having to repeatedly swallow; my throat kept going dry.

He narrowed his eyes, hesitating before he answered. "I'm not sure."

For some reason, his reply sent a shiver down my back. It was likely that _I _would be leaving before _he _would, so there was no reason for me to get upset. Yet, oddly, it still hurt to be told that he didn't have any definite plans of sticking around. I glanced down, unsure of what to say.

_So, Edward, I'm really glad you're alive and not bleeding from the chest on a street corner, where a shadowy madman lurks._

I sighed, rubbing my hand over my pounding heart, and finally asked, "Why are you here, then?"

Edward looked uncomfortable-maybe because my tone of voice was so monotonous and frosty. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to sound gentle, and, while I was relieved to see him, I was sure I didn't look it; I was exceedingly nervous. Was he here because someone else had been murdered? Had he come back to say goodbye before going on the run if he had, indeed, killed the man for whom he'd been looking?

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked, pointing to the table.

Sitting was probably a good idea. I was growing increasingly unsteady on my feet, and my legs felt like they were vibrating; running three miles and being surprised by Edward, of all people, wasn't exactly the equivalent to a calming, warm bath. I took a seat, and he followed. The silence was thick between us for a few seconds, and he folded his hands on the table, tapping his thumbs together.

_Say something._

"It's really you," I managed, trying to ignore the haunting shadows under his eyes, still visible under the bruises. _Oh, _wow_, Bella-that's Pulitzer-worthy._

He raised his eyebrows a bit, nodding as he bit the inside of his lip. "Yeah."

More silence.

"Um," he said, clearing his throat again. "How have you been?"

I stared at him. Was he _serious_? "You really want to do the small talk thing?"

Edward pushed his hair back, keeping his fingers entwined in a section. "Kind of," he admitted. "I haven't talked to you in weeks."

_Oh, whose fault is that?_

He seemed to sense my agitation as I sighed, and he quickly said, "You look well."

I peered down at my sweaty shirt, and as the breeze swept by, I felt a few strands of hair, escapees from my ponytail, hit my face. _Yeah, I'm sweat-soaked troll-I look awesome. _"Thanks," I said quietly, regardless. "You…don't."

I spoke before I could find the words to lie; he really didn't. Exhaustion was a probable cause for the bags under his eyes, but besides that and the bruises, he had the appearance of one who had just gotten over a long illness. He looked sallow and thin-his face had never been full to begin with, but even with his slight facial hair, it was a noticeable difference. Even his posture was weary; his shoulders slumped forward, as if he was weighed down by an invisible blanket of weaved melancholy and pain.

It was astonishing, because underneath it all, he was still unfathomably gorgeous.

"I'm sure I don't," he said, releasing his coppery hair to rub his eyes. "I drove more than I slept in the past few days."

"You _drove _from Chicago?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. It had only been five days since his unexplained hang-up. "Was there another murder here?"

At my words, he straightened, looking surprised. "How did you know I was in Chicago?"

I watched him carefully for a few seconds, watching his eyes flicker from curious to bemused, to solemn. He visibly swallowed, and eventually, drew his hands into his lap, appearing apprehensive-sorrowful, even.

At first, I was confused by his change of demeanor, but then noticed the present feeling of frenetic blood coursing through my cheeks, and a stinging pain in my palms; my fists were balled tightly, and, in turn, pushing my nails deep into my skin. Even my breath had changed-I was struggling to keep calm for a very different reason.

I was pissed, and he could see that. It was true: we hadn't spoken, and he didn't know I dialed the payphone's number and talked to someone after he had disconnected our call…but I could have looked up that area code anywhere. Plus, I rarely received unknown phone calls-and if I did, they had always been from the Jacksonville area-or _Brandon_.

"You must think I'm incredibly stupid," I said, disbelieving. "Did you honestly believe I would _forget?"_

Edward looked conflicted as he pulled at his shirt. "Are you-" He paused, lowering his eyes to the table. "You mean-?"

"Calling me on Monday and not saying a word?" I finished. "Yes, I mean that. Are you going to deny it?"

Slowly, he shook his head. _Well, damn it_.

"I was almost hoping you would," I said, frowning. "I thought maybe you'd lost my letter and my number probably was picked up by some drunken moron, or that one of your friends called me as a joke."

"Of course not," he barely whispered. "I-"

"Then tell me it was a bad connection," I interrupted, crossing my arms without caring how childish the action seemed. "Tell me you couldn't hear a word I said and gave up too easily on calling me back."

The man who had answered the payphone had heard me perfectly, but I wanted to see what he would say.

"No," he murmured, looking everywhere _but _at me. "I could hear you. I didn't think-I couldn't-" He sighed, leaning his head on his hand. "I wasn't thinking straight; that's why I hung up. I didn't know how to tell you…"

My fingers tapped anxiously against my arms as I watched him curiously. "Tell me what?" My heart started to pound again, thinking that he was about to confirm one of my worst fears.

"I didn't kill anyone, if that's what you're thinking," he said wearily.

I tried to hold it back, but relieved breath left my lungs in a whoosh. _Thank God. That means he's not a wanted criminal. At least, I hope. _"That's good to hear," I said awkwardly. "I mean, I know that was your intention, but… I'm glad you didn't."

He nodded. "The man they caught wasn't the one we've been looking for. It was just some sick psychopath."

I shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "So…you're still looking, then?"

"Well, no," said Edward, the slightest hint of disappointment present in his tone. "I mean, the police are, but I'm not."

"You didn't come here because there was another killing?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

I waited to see if he would elaborate, but he didn't. I sighed in frustration, growing tired of his bouts of unexplained silence. "So…are you going to tell me why? Or are we going to sit here until sundown?"

"I guess I can't blame you for being angry," he said, rubbing his eyes again, trying to cover a yawn.

"God, Edward," I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes once more. "It's not that I'm not glad to see that you're okay, or to hear that you're not tracking down a serial killer at the moment, but _really?_ I didn't hear from you at all. Can you even imagine what went through my head while you were gone?"

He kneaded the back of his neck, looking tense. "I thought about you, too."

I scoffed. "Well, what do you want me to do-give you a balloon?" I said crossly. "It's not the same thing. I had _nightmares _about what might happen to you-and you say you thought about _me?_ What, did you imagine me tripping up the stairs and twisting my ankle, or reading poetry by the fireplace? I dreamt of _you _covered in blood, _dying_. About murderers and running from shadows, and-"

I cut off, breathing heavily, cursing my blood vessels. Edward frowned apologetically, twisting a handful of his t-shirt. "I-I don't know what to say."

"I would have thought after five days, you _would _know," I mumbled. "I mean, you couldn't even call to tell me you were coming?"

He was looking more exhausted by the minute-at least, every time I spoke, he did. I was stressing him out, but I couldn't help getting upset. "What could I have said?" he asked. "'Hi, I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd stop by…?'"

"_Anything_," I said, louder than I meant. "You could have said anything. Especially Monday-you have no idea how scared I was."

He tucked his arms firmly across his stomach. "I told you. That was a mistake. I don't know why I called. I couldn't find the words-"

"You could have said _that!"_ I exclaimed. "Exactly that. 'Bella, this is Edward. I have no idea why I called and don't know what to say.' Even if you would have hung up right after that, at least I would've known that you were okay."

Edward stiffened, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around his waist. "I thought I was doing you a favor by not calling back," he explained. "It's hard to clarify. And, when I decided to come here, I didn't call because I was afraid I'd change my mind, or something would happen on the way and convince me to turn around. I didn't want to let you down again."

"Well, why did you come here?" I asking, mentally noting that it was the third time the question had slipped my lips. I didn't bother hiding my annoyance, and suddenly, neither did Edward.

"God, I don't know," he muttered, scowling.

_Well, this conversation is fantastic._

"What happened to your face?" I blurted out.

That seemed to make him even more distressed. He swallowed, finally moving one of his arms so he could fretfully run his fingers through his hair. "Don't worry about it."

I closed my eyes so he wouldn't see me rolling them; although, if I was being honest, I just wanted to burst into tears and hug him, tell him I didn't give a shit about fighting, and just hold him, or have him hold me. At the moment, we were both so uptight, it was hard to breathe.

_Maybe you should make him more comfortable. Offer him a massage, or food, or your hands to play with his leprechaun._

"So," I murmured, trying to calm my girly sass that had shockingly, out of the blue, woken from hibernation. "If you don't want to talk about anything, then what should we do? I mean-I'm half expecting you to get another phone call from your friend and run again. Did you have a change of heart, or are you just taking a break from everything?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm out of ideas, Edward," I said, shrugging my shoulders and rubbing my forehead. "And my head hurts. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

Edward exhaled, fumbling with the collar of his shirt as he stood up. "This was a bad idea. Coming here."

_Well, Jesus._

"Well, please, don't let me ruin your day," I mumbled, his words stabbing me like little pins. He stretched his shoulders, and I noticed a small piece of yellow paper sticking out of his pocket. Neon yellow, just like the flyer from Newton's Outfitters I'd used to write to him, before he left.

My letter was in his pocket.

He noticed I was staring, and I met his eyes before he quickly tucked it in, all traces of yellow disappearing into denim. "I should have known better than to believe you."

My mouth parted in shock. He was talking about what I'd written-the words I'd so sincerely poured out to him-my heart, essentially.

"You think I _lied?_" I said bitterly, feeling my cool exterior begin to falter. "Twist the knife a little further, why don't you? I think you missed an artery."

He looked as though he might make a smart remark, but after a few moments, he came around the table and sat down next to me with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. That was horrible. I didn't mean-"

"I know what you _meant_," I snapped, cringing as I felt tears invade my eyes as quick as I could blink. "I can't help how I frustrated I feel right now. I worried about you every single _day_. I even _prayed_, Edward, and I don't pray! And then you just show up out of nowhere, the day before-"

"It was a terrible thing to say," he said, reaching out for my hand, or arm, but I quickly pulled away before he could touch me. His hand lingered in the air for a moment, then he let it fall to the table. "I-I'm just tired, and cranky, and I can barely hold my head up, and I shouldn't be taking it out on you. I don't think you were insincere at all. I just-I'm-you…"

He stared at me with a wounded expression, appearing to be grasping for the right words, and I was moderately sure that his sudden inability to speak was due to the fact that tears were spilling down my cheeks, like raindrops on slick glass. I bit furiously on my thumbnail, trying to get a hold of myself, but I knew that, no matter what he said, I would end up blubbering like a child, anyway. Because, here we were, presented with more emotional wreckage to sift through-and for what? Just so we could say goodbye again? I couldn't do it.

"Bella…" he finally said, sounding helpless.

"I'm _so _tired of crying over you," I muttered, defeated, turning my face away. "I-I barely _know _you!" _Well, that's kind of an understatement. _"I know things _about _you, but we were around each other for a _week_, Edward. A week! People don't-this kind of thing-we-"

I stopped to take a shaky breath, knowing I didn't make sense.

"This just shouldn't have to hurt so much," I whispered, wiping my face until it was free of tears.

He was silent, and I couldn't look at him. I twisted the hem of my t-shirt, curling my fingers firmly into the material, trying to release some of the tension that was making me ache. I didn't understand why he was so unwilling to give me any information about _anything_; he looked as though he'd been through hell, and maybe he had, but I still couldn't comprehend why he was here in front of me if he didn't want my help, or to talk about the past few weeks.

"I'm sorry," he said, at last, his voice a serrated murmur. Was that what he had come to do? Apologize to me one more time? I glanced up to see him rubbing his fingers over his forehead and eyes, stopping to squeeze the bridge of his nose. When he lifted his eyes to mine, they were glistening with his own tears, and the little pixels of green in his irises had never been so vibrant. "I'm so sorry."

Moments like this had always been awful. As much as I was hurting, it killed me to see him so broken. He was being honest, now, and I could see that it hadn't been his intention to hurt me. Our journeys were poles apart, and his was so much harder than mine would ever be. Maybe, for once, he had put himself first, and I knew I should be glad about that instead of feeling slighted.

Even so, I couldn't help saying, "I wish you would have said something when you called." I really did. Things might have been very different; and, if he had showed up at the lodge, unannounced, this reunion would have probably been happy, even. I would have been in his arms, already, clutching him to my chest, tearing up in relief, and most likely fussing over his bruises instead of demanding what the hell had happened to him.

"If I could take it back, I would," he said softly.

I shifted on the bench, fixing my stare on my hands, wondering what he meant by that. "Calling me, or not speaking?"

He hesitated for too long. I raised my eyes to his face, holding my breath, hoping to hear him say the answer that would makes things okay. Instead, the opposite of what I wanted to hear was already present on his face: he wouldn't have called, and he was sorry to have done so. So, was he here out of guilt, and nothing else?

_If he wasn't, he would say more._

Suddenly, his apologies felt like band-aids on gunshot wounds-a sprinkle of water over an inferno-and I understood, then, that I had been wrong about everything.

I waited, wishing for a wash of numbness, but all I felt were phantom needles.

"That makes it clear, then," I said after exhaling, trying to keep my voice steady. "Fine. I accept your apology. You don't owe me anything else."

I quickly lifted my legs over the bench and stood up, immediately heading for the parking lot. "Bella, wait-_wait_, please," I heard Edward call in a crushed voice, and seconds later, I felt his hand grasp my wrist.

"Get off," I choked, snatching my arm away. We were both crumbling; he looked as though he had a thousand words he wanted to spit free, but he _still _kept them contained; only his face gave away his pain. I shook my head, feeling all of the emotions that I was fighting to bury start to surface again, shooting through my chest, ready for a fierce eruption. "There's nothing else to say, apparently. You always manage to convey it all with your fucking _eyes_. I can't do this-say goodbye or 'I'm sorry,' anymore. I'm done. Leave me alone."

I took off, only glancing back once to make sure he wasn't following me, and rounded the corner. As I passed the row of cars, I noticed something that I hadn't when Angela and I had returned to the lodge: right next to my truck, Edward's Volvo was parked, as if he'd never left-I shook my head, thinking how ironically poetic _that _was. I wiped my eyes, trying not to start bawling uncontrollably, thinking that, if I kept my head down, maybe no one notice my tears. However, that thought was short lived as I was met with a dreaded echo of high heels clopping across the parking lot. Just what I needed: Jessica and Lauren were hastily making their way up to the front door, and Jessica's mouth was running, of course, in a high-pitched, whiny voice. She was probably making fun of someone; me, for all I knew.

_Go back. Use the side door. You don't have to look at him._

But before I could move to do such a thing, Jessica spotted me, and her eyes instantly lit up. That was never a good sign, in my opinion.

"Hi, Bella!" she called, her voice a sickening sweet screech.

I didn't answer, and pressed my back against the wall. I'd wait until they went inside, and then follow-they were assholes, but they still hadn't faltered their "semi-polite" employee act under Doris's eye. Unfortunately, Jessica was in a chatty mood.

"I heard we won't be seeing much of you anymore," she continued, stopping by the door. Lauren paused along with Jessica, but she barely gave me a glance. When I still gave no answer, Jessica scoffed. "Wow. She doesn't even want to say goodbye."

Lauren looked at her nails, muttering an offhand, "Whatever."

Jessica pursed her lips as she took in my appearance, doubtlessly observing my red, tear-streaked face. Like a predator noticing wounded prey, she smiled wickedly. "So…no hoodie today, huh?"

I gave her a glare that hopefully conveyed a convincing _'Fuck off' _face. Lauren nudged Jessica's arm. "Come on, stop," she said, pulling on Jessica's sleeve. "Let's go in."

Jessica chuckled, evidently enjoying the rise she was getting out of me, and brushed Lauren's arm away. "Well, Bella, if you ever visit again, you'll have to, like, let me know what name to write across the next one."

I inhaled slowly, angrily, closing my eyes for a brief moment. _Calm down. She's not worth it. _Though I tried so desperately not to, I sniffled, _hating _the tears that kept coming in fresh waves. I pushed myself off the wall and started walking for the door, not caring. I'd knock them both out of my way, if I had to.

"Actually, which guy do we not want to see again?" Jessica asked, turning to Lauren for a moment before fixing her cold eyes back on me, and put her hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "I mean, like, clearly, whatever guy you fuck will bolt right out of town, from what I've seen."

It was like a blow right to the center of my chest, and unbridled, hot rage shot through me instantaneously. Jessica looked past my shoulder, then, squinting her eyes, and her smug smile diminished. "Is that-"

She was cut off as my hand connected with her bitchy mouth. I had moved so fast, I was hardly aware of what I'd done until Jessica was flat on her ass, covering her cheek. Lauren gasped, shooting me a stunned look before turning her attention to her partner-in-slut-crime.

_Oh, shit. You hit her. Run. Run, now._

But Jessica was up in a flash, practically snarling, and launched herself at me. She slammed me against the side of the lodge, my head firmly connecting with the solid wood. Amidst an instant feeling of dizziness, all I could honestly think as her hand made contact with my face was: _Holy bucket of fuck, 'Attack of the Fake Fingernails!'_ I hoped to God I wouldn't scar.

It all happened very fast after that. It seemed as though the _second _Jessica had pinned me to the wall, she was off of me in the next. Then, in a whirlwind of movement, I was pulled into someone's arms, and my vision went black as my face crushed against their chest. A moment after _that_, a very piercing, very angry voice hollered, "_Jessica Stanley!"_

_Doris. Oh, God. OhGodohGodohGod._

"_What _are you _doing?" _I heard Doris cry, followed by hurried footsteps. I still couldn't see, but I was fairly certain that she'd either witnessed my attack on Jessica, or vice versa, and had come to break it up. "How dare you put your hands on someone on this property-on one of our _guests_, no less?"

My breath was coming in ragged, angry pants, and as I breathed, I recognized a ghostly scent that I'd all but given up on experiencing again. Fresh, sweet masculinity, and a touch of vanilla. I was in Edward's arms.

"_She _hit _me!_" I heard Jessica screech. "I was minding my own business, and she came flying at me, yelling-"

"Don't you _dare _lie." I'd never heard Edward's voice so deep, so angry. For a split second, as he tightened his arms around me, my heart sped at the familiar, warm, protective feeling. I almost moved to wrap my arms around his back, too, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be mad at him. Feeling slightly disappointed, I kept my hands against my own chest, but didn't move out of his grasp, either.

"I-I'm not lying," Jessica said, suddenly sounding a bit timid. "She-she-"

"Did nothing that you didn't deserve," he finished harshly. Silence followed after that, except for Doris's endearing mutter of "_Heavens to Betsy_," and I felt Edward's hand gently stroke the back of my head. "Are you okay?" he whispered to me.

I didn't answer. I wasn't, but I wasn't about to tell _him _that, or even feign that I was okay, either. I was tired of pretending.

"Lauren, go inside and report to Tom. _Now_," said Doris, and I heard Lauren's footsteps shuffle to the door, the bell chiming as it opened and closed. "Now, see here, Ms. Stanley-"

Finally, I pushed myself away from Edward and shook myself out of his embrace, feeling his hands almost reluctantly slide away from me. "No, Doris, it's okay," I said, quickly swallowing as I tasted blood on my tongue. I didn't even care."She's right. I did hit her first."

"_See?" _Jessica exclaimed, jabbing her finger in my direction. "She's admitting it!"

My face boiled as Doris turned to look at me. In my life, I'd never been so humiliated and irate, but I couldn't pretend like I wasn't satisfied, either. If Doris and Edward hadn't come to the rescue, I knew I would still be rolling around in a blind fury with that little skank. Even though it had felt awesome to watch her fall backward on her prissy ass, I should have held back. Now, if she wanted to, she could press assault charges. If anything, maybe I could finally pull my "My-Daddy-was-the-Chief-of-Police" card and just be fined, instead of having to go to court.

_Christ. Charlie's going to kill you for screwing up his reputation. _

"I don't care if she lit a fire under your pantaloons and kicked out your ankles," Doris said firmly as she looked back to Jessica, appearing a bit red in the face, herself. "You assaulted a guest and are terminated, as of this very moment. You're going to go and clean out your section of the break room, and leave _instantly_. Do you understand me?"

My eyes were glued to the ground as Doris continued to reprimand Jessica, and I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my head, feeling a slight bump already emerging. _Great. _All I needed was another concussion. At least I hadn't blacked out this time.

I only raised my eyes when Jessica finally retreated into the lodge, though I caught a glimpse of her hateful sneer before she disappeared. Oh, well. I was leaving in less than twenty-four hours; maybe she'd give up on getting me subpoenaed once I was back in Florida.

"Doris, I'm so sorry," I said, my voice cracking. Doris had been so kind to me during my stay, and then I repaid her by causing a live Jerry Springer scene, right on her property. _What a nice way to show your gratitude, you jerk. "_I'll go get my things and leave right now. I'm really sorry."

"Oh, honey, forget that!" said Doris, waving her plump hands before taking my face in them. She fussed for a moment, smoothing my hair, and I stood, still and baffled, wondering why she wasn't yelling at _me_. "Are you all right, dear? Did she hurt you? I'm the one who's sorry-that pretentious child should have been fired ages ago!"

I breathed deeply, trying not to go to pieces in front of her-and Edward. I almost forgot that he was standing behind me. "I'm fine," I said thickly, wringing my hands together. "I just-I should go clean myself up. I'm-I'm so _sorry_-"

"Oh, hush," said Doris, pulling me into her arms and giving me a quick squeeze. "Just between you, me, and Mr. Masen, I've always wanted to slap her upside her head, too. Of course, that's not very professional of me, dears, so keep that to yourselves, if you can!"

I would have laughed, but I was too close to tears. Instead, I reciprocated her hug, then brushed off my clothes before excusing myself. Thankfully, neither Jessica, nor Lauren, were loitering in the lobby, and I hurried up the stairs, gasping in quick breaths as I ran. My legs felt as thick and heavy as tree trunks as I climbed the last few steps, and I wondered if it was too soon to start taking pain relievers. I unlocked my door, desperately praying that Jessica hadn't let herself into my room, and was preparing to attack me as soon as I entered. When I was sure that she wasn't hiding in one of the corners, I peeled off my sweaty clothes and turned on the shower.

Under the torrent of hot water, I counted down from ten a total of six times, and, with the help of many deep breaths, I managed not to cry.

-:-

Once I was clean, calm, and dry, I pulled on flannel pants and a t-shirt, not bothering to fix my hair-I had packing to do. I'd been procrastinating all week-honestly, it would have taken twenty minutes, tops, but instead, I painstakingly drew out the time, folding and refolding every article of clothing, and neatly packing most of my toiletries. The only things I kept out were my toothbrush and toothpaste, clothes for the next day, and an outfit for later. Lastly, I turned to the pile of things I'd set aside on my desk.

Edward's clothes and the Ludovico Einaudi CD.

I'd planned on keeping them all in my carry-on bag, wanting to keep them close to me, in case I had a sentimental moment and wanted to reminisce, or something girly. Now, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I was okay with keeping the CD, as it had been a gift…but the shirt wasn't, nor was his shorts. And as much as I'd grown to love that shirt, I supposed I would have to give it back. Maybe I could put them in his car; it wasn't like I hadn't snuck my way in there before, without his knowledge.

I winced at the memory and picked up my phone to call Angela, deciding to keep my voice down in case Edward was in the next room; I had no idea if he actually booked a room again, and if he did, it was very possible that he was on a different floor. However, I wasn't taking chances. When Angela answered with a "So, what the hell was _that _all about?", I kept the details to a minimum, only saying that things didn't go very well with Edward, but I had a better story that involved Jessica, and I'd still be meeting her and Ben for drinks later.

"Well, I'm glad you still want to come, but I'll understand if you want to stay and talk to him," she said considerately. "I mean, you're leaving tomorrow-"

"I know," I said, twirling my fingers around my hair. "It's just overwhelming. We tried talking-everything's so heavy between us. And I want to have fun tonight, not cry over…well, you know."

She hummed thoughtfully, and said, "I understand. I just know how upset you were when he left…"

"Yeah," I answered quietly, not sure what else to say.

"Okay, sorry, it's none of my business," she said quickly. "So, what's this story about Jessica?"

I snorted. "Let's save it until we have alcohol in front of us."

After that, I took a nap, finished off a Bentley Little novel, and fixed my hair-a ponytail, because I was lazy. Eventually, I put on the fanciest shirt I had, which was the black one I'd originally worn to dinner with Edward in the dining hall, and moseyed around my room, tidying up and making sure everything was in good condition; the last thing I needed was to leave a mess for Doris. Once I had absolutely nothing else to do, I gathered the courage to venture down to the lobby. I figured Jessica was long gone, and Edward was nowhere in sight-luckily, neither was Lauren, but Doris was. I swiftly made my way over to her, and, thankfully, it didn't take long to convince her to sit and have tea with me: our little goodbye.

We sat in the café for awhile, chatting animatedly, and we both grew wistful as I thanked her for all her hospitality. To my amazement, Edward's name didn't come up at all during our conversation. I'd been waiting for her to ask about him-why he had come back, or why I was distancing myself from him. But, surprisingly, she didn't mention him-not directly, anyway.

"Promise me you'll visit again, dear," said Doris fondly as we stood up. "Perhaps when it's a bit warmer-we have lovely flowers in the spring."

"Yeah, I remember planting daffodils with Charlie when I was little," I said, pulling on my sleeves. "He let them all die, of course. Not intentionally-he said he barely remembered to feed himself, back then, much less water the flowers. I'm sure yours will be nicer-ours were just withered, dried-up buds that never opened."

"Hmm," she said, patting my arm. "It's a shame to watch something so lovely not have a chance to bloom, isn't it?"

Her eyes were transfixed over my shoulder, and when I turned around to see what she was staring at, I saw Edward. He was sitting on the couch with Mr. Miller, deep in discussion. When he turned his head in my direction, I swiftly looked back to Doris, who gazed at me knowingly.

"There's still time," she said softly. "I don't think you both have reached a dead-garden status yet, dear."

And that's how Doris was: if she wasn't saying something outright, she still had ways of making her point clear-even if she didn't have all the facts, I could tell she just wanted things to work out for everyone. After I'd finished saying goodbye to Doris-well, when she let me out of her tight, motherly embrace-I hesitantly made my way over to the sofa, intent on directing my gaze only to Mr. Miller, but I could feel Edward staring at me the same way I could feel the warm, penetrating heat from the fireplace. I glanced at him for a moment, capturing a freeze-frame of the contrition written all over his face, before turning away.

"Hi, Mr. Miller," I greeted.

"Well, hello there, missy," he said, smiling and getting to his feet. "Something tells me you aren't dressed up just to sit down with an old man like me. I'll let you two-"

"Oh, no, that's okay," I said, waving my hand. "I came to talk to you, actually. I just wanted to say goodbye now in case I don't see you later tonight. I'm leaving pretty early tomorrow." I didn't let myself survey Edward's reaction.

"Ah, it's that time already, is it?" he asked, looking pensive as he took my hands. "Well, it certainly will be less cheery here without you."

Mr. Miller gave a subtle glance to his left, to Edward, who suddenly stood up. "Excuse me," he muttered before walking away. I turned to watch him shuffle past a few people before he pushed through the front door, disappearing from our sight.

"Sorry," I said, turning back to Mr. Miller, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "He and I aren't-well, we're not on the best terms at the moment."

"So it seems," Mr. Miller said thoughtfully. "He's a bit cryptic, that one. Not very heavy on the details, but his eyes tell all."

_Tell me about it._

We talked for a few minutes, saying our goodbyes and such. Eventually, I glanced toward the door. "I suppose I should get going. I'm supposed to meet Angela at five. But thank you for spending so much time with me these past few weeks. I hope I didn't interrupt too much of your vacation."

Mr. Miller laughed boyishly. "It was my pleasure. I only hope my old geezer stories were entertaining. And, if I ever see you again, I expect you to be saying '_Checkmate' _to me, you hear?"

"Okay," I said, chuckling before giving him a hug. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, Ms. Bella," he said, patting my back. "Don't be a stranger."

I smiled as we parted. "I won't. Doris is already promising to send me pamphlets for the spring. If your house is done being renovated by then, you'll give me a tour, won't you?"

"Sure will," he answered with a grin. "Take care, now."

"You, too," I said, waving. "Bye, Mr. Miller."

I only got a few steps toward the door before he called out, "Don't be too hard on him."

I froze, my smile faltering as I turned back.

"None of my business, of course," Mr. Miller said, walking up to me and placing his hand on my shoulder. "But some people just have a lot of boulders strewn about their course in life. It takes time to clear a path before they can make a move to invite others to walk with them."

I stared at him, my emotions suddenly stirring like leaves in the wind. It wasn't as if there were sides to be chosen-I wasn't _that _self-centered-but it made me wonder if I was being too harsh. Evidently, whatever Edward had gone through was difficult to talk about; maybe I should have given him the benefit of the doubt before reacting so quickly, so childishly. Perhaps _I _was the one completely out of the loop; everyone else seemed to be a lot more clear-headed than I.

"All right," he said, patting my shoulder again. "Goodbye, honey. Keep your head up."

Mr. Miller strolled to the staircase and began climbing, giving me one last wave. I mirrored his gesture, gently whispering, "Bye." I sighed and walked to the door, running my hand through my hair as the wind blew my curls into my face. This was all _such _bad timing; of course, he _had _to pick the day before I was going to leave to come and catch my apple core.

Edward was standing by his car, which was still next to my truck. There was no avoiding his face now. I pushed my thumbs into my jean pockets, walking until I was close to him. His gaze was fixed on the ground, and I sucked on my bottom lip, feeling sheepish.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I said softly. "I didn't mean to get so upset. I was kind of taken aback, you know? And I shouldn't have ignored you inside like that, I just-"

"You're leaving?" He finally looked up, a questioning look on his face.

I glanced down at my outfit. "I'm meeting Angela and Ben at-"

"I meant tomorrow," he interrupted again. "You're going home?"

I stared at him, shocked to see a glint of anger in his eyes and to hear the exasperation in his voice. He was _upset _with me. Because _I _was the one leaving this time? I was at a loss for words.

"Well, are you?" he asked again, his injured eyes boring into mine.

_Not fucking fair, Romeo._

"Yes," I said hotly, my cheeks reflecting my tone. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

I had to resist extremely hard from stomping my feet as I walked to the driver's door of my truck, and after I firmly slammed it shut, I briefly considered calling a taxi to take me to Port Angeles; I wasn't sure I could keep myself to a two-drink minimum. And for a few, temporary moments, I actually empathized with Phil-no wonder he turned to alcohol to numb his pain. Having feelings for someone, yet, constantly having issues with them, was a total bitch.

-:-

**I'll save all of my rambling for the end of the next chapter. Remember, technically, this is not the end of it-it was just long as fuck. :P I'll try to have it out soon. I have to give my roommate credit for the 'What do you want me to do-give you a balloon?" line. She said it the other day and I was like "Can I use that?" Lol. Thanks, Stace. :)**

**Love you all. MUCH. ((Oh, and I know a lot of you wanted Jessica to be eaten by a vampire (Hahahaha!) but I couldn't do it. Unless I end up writing a parody of this, someday. Hehe. Hope her getting bitch-slapped was enough comeuppance for most!))**


	23. Crushing Blows, Velvet & Stone Pt 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. And, obviously, I own nothing of Robert Frost's works-neither the poetry I may include, nor the title of my story, even. But I did own my parents' house for nine days while they were on a cruise. They just got home … back to my little apartment. But it was lovely while it lasted. Lots of space, quiet time for writing, and I only had to kill one spider cricket. I, uh, was, like, totally calm. Yup. Didn't scream once. *lip bite***

******This is the 2nd**** part, continuing from the last chapter, of course. It's** a bit of a whirlwind, and I honestly rewrote/deleted hunks of it before I was satisfied… however, if you're one of my readers who is tired of the angst … I suggest waiting until the next chapter is completed, and then read both. You'll probably be much more satisfied. Don't say I didn't warn you. ;) If you find yourself thinking, "JFC, WHY?" all I ask is for you to keep an open mind, and trust me. Please? Oh, dear. Have at it.

-:-

Ben took another sip of his beer and sat back against his chair, shaking his head and grinning. "You _hit _Jessica Stanley…"

I placed my elbows on the decorated tabletop, which was complimented with a jack-o-lantern centerpiece, plastic-wrapped, waxy fangs adorned with fake blood, and little, plastic spider rings. I rested my head on my hands, and nodded again; he'd repeated his statement nine times and hadn't seemed to tire of it, yet.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Okay, Ben - yes. Bella hit Jessica. Can you maybe stop making her relive it?"

"Who _wouldn't _want to relive that?" he said, winking at me. "Don't ruin this for me, Ang. It's not everyday that the chick who called me _Lamey Chaney _all through middle school gets smacked down by Bella 'Badass' Swan."

I chuckled, absentmindedly fiddling with the straw in my barely-sipped cocktail. When I had arrived at the bar, alcohol didn't have the appeal I'd anticipated. "I'd hardly call myself a badass. I hit her with an open palm."

"_Still_," Ben breathed, as if he was envisioning a visual masterpiece. "God, I would have given my paycheck to see that."

Angela gave me a quick look, smiling shyly. "Me too, actually," she said before sipping her drink.

I smiled, thinking, at least, I did _something _right today. Slapping that conceited bitch was the ballsiest thing I'd ever done; I supposed that I should be proud of myself since I'd finally accomplished an act of self-defense. Sure, it was juvenile, girly self-defense, and I'd actually apologized to Doris about it, but it still counted; at least, I kept telling myself so.

"So, Bella, are you sure you don't want to go to Tyler's Halloween party with us?" Ben asked, nudging my hand.

Even though Doris had placed decorations around the lodge earlier that week, I'd forgotten that _today _was Halloween. It wasn't until I'd seen a few of Peak's patrons dressed up in costume - pirates, doctors, and even a creepy, evil clown - that I realized I was smack in the middle of a holiday. I looked at Ben and shook my head. "Thanks, but I should probably be responsible and go to bed early. I have to drive up to Seattle and drop off my truck by nine, and my train leaves around eleven-thirty. Tell Tyler I said hello, though."

"I wish you'd let me wait with you at the train station," Angela piped up. "You'll be sitting there for two hours, probably."

"Ang, it's silly for you to follow me for three and a half hours just to drive me twenty minutes to the Amtrak," I said stubbornly. "I don't mind waiting by myself. You've already sacrificed overtime pay to hang out with me tonight."

"Oh, hush, it's your last night," she said. "Although, I should have just brought you to the hospital with me if you wanted to have some real fun. The half-baked idiots that roll in, all decked out in costume, are priceless. Last year, there was this one guy in a Gumby suit-"

"Aw, _come on!" _Ben shouted, craning his neck at the college football game that was plastered over every TV in sight. I put my straw between my teeth, unable to help grinning in amusement. "God, they won't stop running the ball up the middle. _Throw _the damn thing. Are you girls seeing this?"

Angela rubbed his shoulder and gave me a look that was so comical, I laughed and accidentally blew into my straw, sending a blast of bubbles through my drink and a slosh of rum and coke across the table. She and I cracked up while Ben looked back and forth at us, shaking his head.

"Silent chick joke?" he asked, which only made me and Angela giggle more. He sighed. "I'm outnumbered. Here, Bella-" He tossed a pair of fangs at me. "Go back and bite some sense into Edward. Maybe you two can make up and he can join us for New Year's so I won't have to drag Mike Newton to Jacksonville."

Angela elbowed him, probably for bringing up both Edward _and _Mike, but I laughed, knowing he was kidding.

"What a way to start the New Year - gonorrhea," I said drolly. "Sorry, Ben, but my building doesn't allow animals. Mike will have to wait until I buy a house, okay?"

Ben hooted and stood up from the table. "I'll miss that wit of yours," he said, reaching for his beer bottle. "Refills, ladies?"

"Sure," said Angela, reaching into her purse for money.

Ben pulled her arm back and kissed her cheek. "I got you, babe," he said with a grin, picking up her glass. Angela smiled, rolling her eyes. "Cheeseball," she said, even though her cheeks flushed pink.

"Bella?" Ben proposed. "Want a Frisky Benjamin to lighten your day? Or maybe some ice to cool off that bitch-slapper?"

"Thanks, Ben, but I'm fine," I said, smiling warmly. I'd miss his wit, too.

Once he was at the bar, ordering drinks and engaged in conversation with another sports fan, Angela leaned across the table. "I know you said things didn't go well with Edward," she began, her eyes semi-concerned, "so I won't bug you about what happened today. But did he ever say what he was doing at the hospital last night?"

I stared at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Well, he-" Angela creased her eyebrows, looking hesitant. "He didn't say anything about it?"

Shaking my head, I said, "You saw him at the hospital?"

"I didn't mention it to you because I was sure I was wrong," she answered thoughtfully, slightly repentant. "When I was working last night, I could have sworn I saw someone that looked just like him - I was far away, though, and I thought it was just my imagination. And then, he showed up this morning, and he didn't exactly look his best, so… I don't know, I figured maybe I wasn't mistaken. But I still could be," she added quickly.

"He never said anything about being there," I said, trying to stay quiet, even though the bar was buzzing with noise. "We didn't really talk for too long, though. Do you think he's okay?" My stomach was suddenly crawling with discomfort. Why would he have been at the hospital, of all places? The bruises on his face were days old, at least. Was he sick?

"I wouldn't worry too much," she said. "I mean, he's up and about, obviously, and if it was something serious, he'd still be there. I - geez, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. Honestly, Bella, it probably wasn't even him."

I wrapped my hands around my icy glass, which was wet with condensation. "How many people in Forks do you know who look like Edward?"

Angela toyed with her straw, lowering her eyes to the table. She didn't have an answer for that. A few moments passed before she checked her phone. "It's almost eight. Go talk to him. You and I can call each other soon, but you should talk to him in person while you still can. Does he even know you're leaving tomorrow?"

Sighing, I pulled out my hair band and combed through my curls with my fingers, thinking back to earlier that evening. "Yeah. He knows."

"So, go," she said. "I don't think it's cool that he didn't call you, either, but maybe he has a good reason for it. Even if _you _don't talk, you could listen. Know what I mean?"

If Angela had all the details, she'd probably be pushing me out of my chair and telling me what a cold-hearted wench I was being. Glumly, I nodded, stirring my still-full drink. "I guess. I'm wondering if he even stuck around."

"I'd be surprised if he left," she said. "Something tells me he didn't come all the way back here to leave things unfinished."

"Yeah, he must have a reason," I commented as I gathered my purse. "I was just shocked to see him, and got too sensitive, I guess. Think he'll talk to me?"

Angela wiggled her eyebrows. "He might want to do more than _talk_."

I laughed slightly, thinking that was probably the farthest thing from the truth, and pulled on my sweater. Angela hopped out of her chair and enveloped me in a tight hug. "I'll miss you," she said. "Call me from the train tomorrow? I need to know whether or not I need to kick Edward's ass if he ends up _being _an ass, or give him a hug because he's miserable without _your _ass."

I laughed, trying not to cry again - I really hated goodbyes. "Okay," I said softly, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Thank you. I'll miss you, too."

"I'll miss'h you more," came Ben's voice, and a second later, both Angela and I were lifted into the air by another set of arms. We squealed, and Ben growled playfully as he set us down, flashing us a smile with the pair of plastic, bloody teeth in his mouth. "S'hee you s'hoon, Bell-ahh."

"Oh, my God-drink your beer before you outgeek yourself," Angela cried, giggling.

"Maybe he'd like a Naughty Angela with a twist," I added, grinning.

Ben spun toward Angela and pulled her close. "Ooh, there's an idea," he said, after removing his fake fangs. I laughed again, soaking up the happiness in front of me before we all waved goodbye.

As I drove back to Forks, I turned off the radio and only listened to the rushing wind outside the window. The night had been fun, after all, but guilt was progressively bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't help but wish that Edward had been there to be involved in the crazy fun that always resulted with Angela and Ben. He deserved to smile and be among friends, too; most of all, he was entitled to a break from all the calamity - both from his past _and _my dramatic outburst. Even though we hadn't had the best day with each other, and instead of getting all huffy, I should have said, "Damn it, just come out with me. We both need to chill out, and we can talk about it afterwards."

My truck's engine rumbled tiredly, and I patted the dashboard. "Me too, baby," I said, looking up at the sky as rain began to fall.

-:-

There was a movie going on in the Entertainment Hall when I arrived at the lodge. The lobby was empty, and even Doris was absent from her desk. I figured she was probably watching the film, too. Edward's car was still parked outside, so I assumed he'd be somewhere downstairs, unless he actually _had _checked in for the evening.

_It's almost nine-thirty. Maybe he went to bed. _I hadn't told him what time I was leaving in the morning; I wondered if he was planning on seeing me before then. Not that he actually cared, anymore, after the way I acted. I'd let my emotions get the best of me, and he probably couldn't help but get defensive - he was tired, and I was tired. I _needed _to talk to him before I left - I couldn't let my last words to him be something so spiteful.

I decided to go to my room and change into my pajamas. If he wasn't in the room next door to mine, I figured I could always sneak into the Entertainment Hall and ask Doris which room she'd given him. For all I knew, he was watching the movie with everyone else - either way, I figured I'd find him, sooner or later.

But I didn't have to do anything, other then make the mountainous climb to the fourth floor. Edward was waiting in the hallway, sitting against the wall with a half-empty cup of coffee next to his feet. He was already in his nightclothes: navy sweatpants and a white, long-sleeved thermal shirt. He looked at me with fatigued eyes, into which his hair was falling, and I felt my body flush with warmth, cooling in the next few seconds. After all the grief and frustration, he still made me sweat.

Walking slowly, like a nervous kindergartner, I let my purse hang loosely from my fist, and it bounced off my leg with every step. I took a silent, shaky breath before sitting beside him, and watched his expression carefully, hoping he wasn't angry, anymore. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be. The silence between us was no longer awkward; it was solemn, and worn-out - just like us.

I thought about offering a quiet '_Hi_,' but my voice felt lodged in my throat. Eventually, he met my eyes again, and we shared a short, reflective look that made me crave to touch him. Hadn't we been apart long enough, after all? Edward had his arms folded across his knees, and before I could reconsider, I scooted closer, linking my hands around his bicep, and leaned my head on his shoulder; hopefully, he could read my mind through my actions.

_I'm sorry_.

I closed my eyes, relishing in the clash of soft and solid, skin and muscles, and his warmth - just everything that he was. I knew I had to soak it up in case he shrugged me off, but, slowly, I felt him lean toward me and rest his head above mine. A second later, his other hand caressed my cheek before sliding down around my arm, pulling me closer.

I relaxed a bit, gladly repositioning my arms to hug him around his neck, and he sighed, his warm breath hitting my hair. Without saying a word, we inched closer and closer, adjusting our bodies until he finally pulled me into his lap, enveloping me in his arms as I pressed my head against his chest. Touching him was therapeutic and soothing, and to feel him was the greatest kind of comfort. I hoped that, maybe, some of the broken bits and pieces between us had been patched back together, and if we spoke honestly, it might be possible to make things okay before I had to leave.

Clearly, he was exhausted, probably bordering on temporary insanity because of his lack of sleep, and we wouldn't be able to talk all night if he was delirious. Still, I didn't speak, fearing that words would ruin the moment, that they would give us a reason to move out of each others' arms.

In the end, Edward broke the silence first.

"I know you don't like it when I apologize, but I think, in this case, you deserve one," he said, his voice gravelly. "More than one."

"Well, you deserve it more than I-" I started to say, but he lightly put his hand over my mouth.

"No, you already gave me one in the parking lot," he replied. "I was just too childish to pay attention."

"You already gave me plenty, and I was a jerk," I said, pulling his hand off my lips and pressing my forehead against his neck. He smelled like soap and sweet air. "I was just _so _surprised to see you this morning. I knew I was leaving, and _all _I could think of was having to say goodbye again. I can't believe I jumped down your throat like that. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings - for not being more understanding."

"It's all right. I should have given you some answers, and not waited to harass you at your car about why you were leaving," he said. "Obviously, you weren't going to stay here forever; I'm lucky that I even arrived before you _did _go. With all that's been happening, I completely lost track of time. I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Halloween," I answered, then cringed. _Are you for real? Just shut up and listen to him!_

"Oh," he said faintly. "Well, that explains the spider stuck to your purse."

I narrowed my eyes, and, sure enough, a black spider ring was hooked around my purse's strap, probably put there by Ben.

"I didn't realize it was a ring, at first," he continued. "I kept watching it, waiting for it to move. I didn't want to freak you out."

A small laugh barely escaped my throat. He was lightening the mood, but I turned my attention back to him, not wanting to lose focus. "I really missed you," I said, feeling my body temperature slowly increase. "And, God, I'm _so _glad you're okay. I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier; I should have - my thoughts were just in tangles."

My head moved in synchronization with his chest as he took a deep breath. "I missed you, too. And, _I'm _sorry. For everything."

I turned my face slightly upward, wanting to kiss his neck and feel the scratch of stubble on his jaw, to taste the nectar of his skin and melt the apologies coming from his mouth; no more regrets were necessary. My lips parted and my hand trembled, itching to pull his head closer to mine, but I figured it was just my hormones talking. _Speak first, kiss later. Maybe. Hopefully_. "It's okay," I answered gently.

"It's not," he said, smoothing my hair. "But thank you."

I wasn't sure what to say; again, I was too afraid I'd say the wrong thing, but something was nagging me, more than anything else.

"You've lost weight," I remarked softly, tracing my hand over his shirt. I was trying to ignore the fact that I could notice simply by touching him, but it was too unsettling to discount.

"I know," he answered. "Gross, aren't I?"

I pulled back so I could see his face. "No, of course not. Just thinner than I remember. Have you been sick?"

He creased his eyebrows, appearing slightly amused. "Do I look _that _bad?"

Truthfully, he looked like he felt like shit, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I shook my head. "It's just…" I couldn't stop myself from gliding my fingers along the bruise on his cheek. "Angela mentioned that she thought she saw you at the hospital last night. And, I'm pretty sure you're hard to mistake for someone else. Was it you?"

His hands slowly slid down my arms and broke their connection as he placed them on the floor. "Yeah, it was me," he answered dimly. "Is that why you're hugging me? You think I'm dying, or something?"

"No!" I said, surprised, huddling into his chest again. "No, I was just worried. I would've hugged you even if Angela hadn't told me anything. I didn't want to argue anymore, and wanted to say how sorry I am."

He still didn't move to hold me again, but he didn't shove me away, either.

"So, are you okay?" I asked timidly.

He hissed his breath through his teeth. "God, Bella, do you have to ask about _everything_?"

_You should have just kissed him._

I furrowed my eyebrows, keeping my head firmly against him, unwilling to let go. Obviously, he hadn't lost any of his obstinacy, but neither had I. "Edward, you know damn well that if I showed up on your doorstep, out of the blue, covered in bruises and ten pounds lighter, you wouldn't just stand back and knit yourself a fucking sweater."

I huffed, glad he couldn't see the rosy color of my face. Damn him - it was totally true, and if he was going to deny it, I was going to have a hard time remaining calm. I could already feel my shoulders trembling in annoyance... or, maybe not. The shaking wasn't coming from me; it was _him_. I quickly pulled away from him, concerned, but my mouth dropped open when I realized he was silently laughing.

"Are you _serious_?" I asked in disbelief. "I'm _funny_, all of a sudden?"

Edward continued chuckling, a silly, tired smile on his face, and while it was incredibly adorable, I was baffled. "You're a pregnant woman," I declared. "That explains your mood swings and the hospital."

That only made him laugh harder, and I smiled weakly, thinking that his sleeplessness had finally gotten the best of him.

"Not exactly," he said after he calmed somewhat, though he still seemed amused. "I lost weight because, apparently, I take horrible care of myself when I'm in revenge-mode, which is why I was at the hospital - I was dehydrated. And, this-" He circled his finger around his face, indicating his bruises. "This is nothing. It was a stupid fight. I was being an idiot and someone decided to shut me up."

At the end of his speech, his voice wavered slightly, and I calculated his response, carefully scrutinizing his expression. Even though his voice was lighthearted, a hint of unease in his eyes told me that was being dishonest about something.

"I believe you about not taking care of yourself," I said sincerely. "But … I think you're lying about the last part, and hiding something else."

I almost regretted saying it, because I knew his smile would disappear - and it did, slowly. He exhaled and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, you're wrong," he said, looking away.

Reluctantly, I slid myself off his lap and sat in front of him. "Edward, please," I said, feeling embarrassed at how desperate I sounded. "Don't get upset just because I can read you better than you'd like me to. Just... why do you think it's better if you lie to me?"

"I'm not lying to you," he said, keeping his eyes on the opposite end of the hallway. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

I gaped at him. "Well, since you're not avoiding the subject, or anything…" I said wryly. "Five AM."

He looked at his wrist again - his watch was still missing. I supposed he kept looking out of habit.

"It's almost ten," I said, checking my phone. "Do you have to be up early?"

He shook his head, tucking his knees back to his chest.

"What happened to your watch?" I asked. Hell, I'd asked him everything else under the sun - what was one more question?

"It broke," he answered tediously, tracing invisible lines in the carpet with his thumb.

I wondered how, but didn't ask_._

Inhaling, and letting my breath out slowly, I said, "I'm not happy about leaving, you know. I don't want us to leave things so up in the air, but I don't want to rush through a conversation, either. I wish we had more time to talk, but you look so tired… You shouldn't have to stay awake just for me."

Edward looked up, seeming confused before he raised his eyebrows. "Really, Bella?"

It was my turn to be puzzled. "Really, what?"

He chuckled, leaning his head on his hand. "Don't you know…" He sighed, pulling at his hair twitchily, then locked his eyes on mine. "Don't you know that I came back here, '_just for you?_'"

My eyebrows felt as though they raised to my hairline as my mouth slowly opened, my breath freezing in my chest. I'd wished. I'd hoped. I'd _wanted _that to be the reason for him coming back, but I never expected to actually be _true_. I thought his return to see _me _was just another selfish fantasy in my head. As I stared at him, I realized that his eyes were completely sincere. He wasn't messing around. And I was speechless.

He stared back, looking concerned. "I mean, it's not _that _hard to believe, is it?"

"I-I don't know," I said, my voice just above a whisper. "You didn't answer when I asked before."

"I know," he said, lifting his coffee cup to his mouth, taking a sip. "Have you ever had something planned - a speech of sorts - and then, somehow, you couldn't quite bring yourself to say any of it when you opened your mouth?"

I nodded, playing with a lock of my hair. _More than you know._

"I was pretty surprised to see you, too," he admitted, giving me a small, half-smile. "My mind went completely blank. And, you were so _mad_…"

Grimacing, I chewed my fingernail in shame, wanting to hide behind my hair to cover the blush of my cheeks. Edward could read me, though, as if neon apologies were flashing across my face.

"Don't," he said, pulling my hand into his. "If our roles were reversed, I probably would have reacted the same way. And, you were right. I should have called to tell you I was coming. It certainly would have saved us a lot of … grief."

On the last word, his expression turned forlorn again, and his eyebrows knitted together as he sat up straight. He brushed his thumb over my knuckles, and I watched him vigilantly. I knew that look; whatever he was thinking wasn't exactly promising.

"What's wrong?" I asked, scooting closer, fighting the desire to maneuver my way into his arms again.

He sighed quietly, absentmindedly twisting the collar of his shirt. "My timing," he answered, and suddenly, he took a short breath and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a few moments. "And I've been awake for too long. It's been catching up with me, and I keep ignoring it, but… I promise I'm not trying to - I mean, I don't want to stop talking, but I don't know if I can sit up for much longer."

He reached for the coffee by his side again, but I stopped him.

"No, don't," I said, pulling his arm back. "I understand. You should go to bed." I cleared my throat, my voice growing thick, and I let go of him to rake my fingers through my hair. A goodbye was coming, and I wasn't ready... not that I ever would be.

_Fuck the train. You could postpone - you could get a flight out another day. It's only money. Well, a _lot _of money, but it's worth it… right?_

"I don't have to leave," I blurted out, my heart beginning to pound. "Not right now. I could wait a few days. I could-"

"Bella, don't be silly," Edward said dimly, and so softly, that I could barely hear him. "You have to go home."

He looked miserable, and it wasn't just because of fatigue. I reached out for his hands again, and though he let me hold them, he didn't reciprocate the squeeze. He was wilting in slow motion, just like I'd seen so many times before.

"Edward, we can-"

"Bella, even if you stay for a few days, we're just going to have to say goodbye, then, too," he continued, his eyes narrowing to the staircase. "This is inevitable."

I bit the inside of my lip, breathing quickly. I wondered if he would consider going with me. _Um, hello, he's not an Adopt-a-Pet! You can't just take him home with you! _Yet, he _had _traveled all the way back to Forks… Maybe he would be willing to go a little further.

It felt ridiculous and irrational to sit and try to reorganize my plans in a matter of minutes, purely based on desperation, but the questions continued to swirl in my head like a mental storm. Would he feel _pitied _if I asked him to accompany me back to Jacksonville? Or would it hurt him more if I didn't ask him to come? Besides, how would he get there? Driving from Washington to Florida was insane, but he couldn't just abandon his car. I'd had my truck registered to be taken to Florida over a week ago, and there was a slim chance that he'd be able to put his Volvo on the same transporter. Was he even up for such a trip, especially after all that he'd been through?

"I know what you're thinking." Edward's voice infiltrated my thoughts, and I glanced up with wide eyes. Maybe he _was _up for it, or had a better idea. "It's too difficult. And I'm too..." He winced, running a hand over his eyes. "...unstable right now."

I hadn't forgotten his nightmares, or the unavoidable panic that he experienced from time to time. He'd been through so much change in the past year, and he probably needed a break; maybe he needed more time to heal before he could take on a relationship that exceeded friendship. My chaotic brain was finally absorbing Mr. Miller's wisdom.

Although my chest throbbed at the very thought of leaving without him, I nodded.

"It'll be okay," I said, speaking in the most optimistic voice I could manage. "I understand that you need time. We can keep in touch until we can work something out, can't we?" I smiled, nudging his arm, though he didn't look up. "I mean, since we're friends, you'll have to promise me that if I call, you'll actually _talk _to me when I answer."

I forced a laugh to let him know I was joking, but he kept his eyes on the floor and slowly shook his head. "That's the thing. I don't think we should call each other."

My insides froze for a moment, and then, a creeping ache spread through my stomach, which invisibly twisted at his words.

_What?_

"You ... you just want to say goodbye, and that's it?" I asked, mildly disbelieving.

Edward cleared his throat, looking aggrieved. "It would be easier. To forget, you know?"

_Forget_. He wanted to forget?

I swallowed and brought my knees to my chest, breathing deeply, and stared at the staircase in front of us. "I don't understand. You came back for me, but now, you're telling me to _go_, and to _forget_?" I repeated, my voice quivering.

He fisted his hands in his hair, frowning. His voice was like shredded satin as he spoke, simultaneously soft and torn. "Bella, you said it best - we only knew each other for a week. And I caused you a countless amount of pain in such a short time - even after I left, I still hurt you. I can't keep popping into your life when I'm still so off course. Do you know how selfish that would make me?"

"That's not true. Even with all the drama, that week was unforgettable," I said, pulling one of his hands out of his hair and holding it between both of my palms. "And wanting something isn't wrong. _Everyone _wants something. Wanting _too much _of a thing that you don't care about - _that's _selfish. And if we care about each other-"

"Please don't make this any harder than it is," he murmured, staring at the floor.

"Do you want to be by yourself?" I uttered, trying to hold myself together. "I mean, it's one thing if you don't want me, but if you do… why are you severing this? Us?"

"It's not a question of what I want-"

"The hell it isn't!" I cried, feeling panic rise in my chest, as well as my temperature; I could feel sweat beading at my temples. This wasn't how this was supposed to end.

"I really should have known better," he continued shakily. "I'm carrying around one less problem, but just because I'm not out seeking revenge doesn't mean I'm-" he cut off, narrowing his eyes, appearing almost angry. "It doesn't mean I'm any less damaged."

"I - I don't expect you to - to be _whole _in a snap," I stammered, grasping for the right words. "God, Edward, I don't count on you to be some kind of perfect, put-together man whose life is absolutely flawless. That's not what I'm looking for, anyway - not in anyone."

_Yeah, just make it sound like you're looking for emotionally broken men who can't amount to anything, why don't you?_

"This is coming out all wrong," I said anxiously, wringing my hands together. "I don't mean that I think you're going to be some kind of disappointment, either. But I can understand that there are things you've gone through that I can't fully grasp. And I'm not sure what happened while you were gone, so... I'm saying that I don't expect you to just get over everything in a heartbeat. I know it will take time, but I'm willing to be there as your friend. I meant what I said in my note, I _promise _you."

He looked as though my words made him uncomfortable, instead of calming him, and I swallowed thickly, unsure of what else to say. He cleared his throat, and said quietly, "You deserve someone better than me. You really do."

I choked out a laugh, though, it was reminiscent to a scoff. "That's not true. I like you for who you are. And, clearly, I'm not exactly some kind of beauty queen, all immaculate and composed. I wish I could say I'm normal, like everyone else, but I'm not."

"You're going to go home, and you'll be fine," he said, though he sounded like he was reading a script. "You've got your family and friends, and opportunities." I opened my mouth to say something, but he quickly said, "Don't pretend like that's not true."

My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and my hands shook as he slowly pulled away from my grip, putting his fist to his mouth. "Yes, it's true," I said in a shaky voice, "but, who says you can't be included?"

My head was swimming in a dizzy, overwhelming haze. Was he really doing this? Was he really telling me goodbye … forever?

"You should take this from me," he said, pulling a familiar piece of paper from his pocket. Bright yellow. I watched with fixed eyes as he placed the letter I'd written to him on the floor, next to me. "I might be able to avoid it for a little while, but I've already caved once. I know I would call you again, and you shouldn't have to put up with all of this back-and-forth emotional mess, especially not when you're hundreds of miles away. I mean, you…"

He kept talking, but his voice grew fuzzy and garbled as I tuned him out, still staring at the folded sheet that contained everything I'd poured out to him. Like pins and needles, my chest felt peppered with twinges, causing a sort of corrosion across the sturdy facade I was failing to build. Involuntarily, a slight whimper came from the back of my throat, but I kept my mouth closed and didn't answer; I remained silent and crossed my arms over my knees, resting my head upon them. I always thought things happened for a reason, but right now, it was hard to see why he and I had met each other, particularly if one of the major things to come out of our relationship was pain. Hadn't we both endured enough of that?

Eventually, the hazy sound of his speech ceased, and we were left in dismal silence. It was insufferable, proof of our constant failure to make each other happy.

"See, I'm hurting you, even now," he said miserably, his voice breaking through the thick air.

I could barely speak, but I managed to rasp, "That's because you're telling me you don't want to talk to me again."

He winced as if he was in pain, looking inconceivably pale. I supposed he wasn't exactly pleased about this, either, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him it was _okay_.

"God, I _told _you, Bella," Edward continued. "I told you this would happen in the end. Why didn't you listen to me? Why didn't you-"

"Wait here," I deadpanned. Unsteadily, I got to my feet, scooping up my purse before I could trip on it, and clumsily unlocked my door. I moved like a zombie at first, simply scaling my room, before I went into the bathroom and stared at my reflection for a few moments. My clothes and my hair were holding up surpisingly well, but my eyes frightened me. I saw the almost-identical eyes I'd carried two years ago: the aloof, deadened ones. The girl that I'd managed to bury in the dark was attempting to claw her way inside my soul again. It was going to be difficult to not allow myself to become _her _again.

I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, went back into the bedroom to snatch my clothes that were still sitting out, and stuffed everything into my suitcase.

Tucking my car keys into my pocket, I stood up, trying to swallow the nausea that was creeping up my throat. I glanced around the room to make sure I hadn't missed anything and tossed my duffels and purse out into the hallway, followed by my suitcase. I had everything I needed - everything that was mine... except for three things: Edward's shirt, shorts, and CD. But, they didn't belong to me. Not really. Not anymore.

I clenched my teeth together as I turned off the lights, locking the door after I stepped out into the hall. I wasn't angry - I was only trying to keep my bottom lip from quivering, like a child's might. Edward was already standing, staring at my scattered luggage, but he looked up as I walked toward him and held out his things.

"Take them," I said miserably, feeling my face contort as the tears came, albeit slowly. "They're yours, not mine. And I... I can't keep memories of you, not if you don't want any of me."

His jaw was tightly set, and I ended up having to push everything into his hands when he didn't move to receive them. I picked up my discarded letter and took a few steps back. I stared at it for a moment, then tightened my fist, crumpling the paper before stooping down to stuff it into my purse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward toss his belongings to the floor, and he came down to my level, grasping my wrist to prevent me from tucking away the letter.

"Everything that I say comes out wrong, no matter how I say it," he said urgently, and when I tried to unzip my purse, he placed his other hand atop my straining ones. "Don't you understand that I'm telling you all this because I care about you?"

"I care about you, too," I said, sniffling, barely able to see. "And I know you need time, and I'm willing to wait as long as it takes, but you're so _satisfied _to push me away and retreat into yourself instead of fighting for anything. And then you give me _this_-" I paused and held up my letter, "when it's supposed to be _yours_. You could have just thrown it out without telling me!"

I was half-choking over my words, and decided to stop talking before I made an even _bigger _fool out of myself. I jammed the letter in my pocket, shoved my purse inside a duffel bag, and then lifted both bags onto my shoulders as I stood up, preparing to yank my suitcase down the hallway. But, before I could, Edward grabbed onto my arm.

"Wait," he pleaded, stopping me mid-step, and I almost gasped when he took my face into his hands. He brushed my hair away from my eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. "Bella, you - you owe me nothing. Not one thing, not one word, and I know that, but _please, _wait a minute."

He smelled the same: intoxicating and sweet - it was more _intense_, if that was possible. I tried not to focus on his scent or the warmth of his skin, because it made me forget why I was upset, or why I was even leaving in the first place.

"You're not even close. I'm not trying to give you back the letter because I don't want it anymore," he said softly, running his fingers through my hair. "Didn't you hear me, before? I'm just afraid I won't be able to stop myself from calling you and popping up at inconvenient times - you're going home, and you don't deserve anymore of my bullshit, especially when it's long-distance. I'm not trying to play the victim, either. It's just bad timing, obviously, and... Christ, this is all beside the point."

I gripped the handle of my suitcase tightly, feeling it start to slip.

"I read what you wrote so many times, I could recite it to you," he said, lifting his head and resting his chin on my hair. "No one's ever said something so kind to me. I guess I just wanted you to save those words for... I don't know. I'll always remember everything you said. _Please _believe me."

Sincerity. He was good at that emotion. "You're pretending again, aren't you?" I asked bleakly. "For my benefit?"

"No," Edward breathed. "I'm not pretending, I promise." I didn't give any sign of an answer, and he squeezed my shoulders, putting his soft lips to my forehead, which tickled as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

He always was. We stood in heartrending silence, and I prayed that he would suddenly change his mind, or ask for the letter back; I hoped he would plead for me to stay, or to come with me. But he didn't.

After my body began to ache from the weight of my bags, I finally said, "So, you won't call, and neither will I. You don't have to worry. You never gave me your phone number, anyway."

He sighed heavily, curling my shirt's fabric into his fists. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm _so _fucked up."

I swallowed thickly. "I need to go," I said in a throaty voice. "I can't stay here. And you just want to be alone, so…"

"I don't - I - I'm..." Edward inhaled sharply, and he loosened his grip on my shirt. Tears were swimming in his little, green seas, and I felt another prickle build behind my own eyes. "Bella, I'm just so s-"

"You're sorry," I finished for him, losing my composure. "Me too."

He shook his head, probably indicating that I shouldn't be, but I screwed up my face, shrugged out of his clasp, and walked to the top of the staircase, giving him one last look as tears finally streamed down the planes of my cheeks. "Goodbye."

For the first time, it felt more difficult to walk _down _the stairs than to climb up them.

-:-

I was cold. I supposed the abnormally warm temperature of the day had confused the owners of the diner, either rendering them to turn off the heat or turn _on _the air-conditioning. Either way, I was enduring chills that were making my skin ripple with gooseflesh, and the dish of ice cream in front of me wasn't aiding my sporadic shivering.

I didn't really care, though. The cold was a sister to being frozen, which was close enough to numbness. I'd always heard freezing to death was one of the better ways to go; at least, that's what I reasoned, after taking an Anatomy and Physiology class. It was certainly a slower process than most ways to die, but once a person's nerve endings succumbed to the cold, the hard part was over. All you had to wait for was the sense of calm, for the hazy, sleepy blanket of darkness to overtake you. Along with kicking it in my sleep, I supposed perishing under the power of ice wouldn't be so bad, either.

_Cool it, Edgar Allan. You're in a _diner_. And you're certainly not going to die. Stop being such a fucking drama queen._

"Too many horror novels," I muttered to myself, dipping my spoon back into the mound of Rocky Road, which was an ironic flavor of choice, considering my evening. Or, just my entire relationship with Edward.

I hadn't expected him to come after me. I knew he was drained of energy, and had probably buried himself under his comforter as soon as I left. I only hoped that he was in for a long night of sleep, without nightmares, or anything else to interrupt.

_It's not your business to worry about. You won't ever know, regardless._

I took another bite of ice cream, trying to let the chocolate and marshmallows take away the pain, or at least put me into a sugar coma. Essentially, I was stalling. I'd driven out of the lodge's long drive and only made it past a few stoplights before taking refuge in the diner's parking lot. After I finished crying, I decided that it would be better to wait inside and have a few cups of coffee; I was going to need the extra caffeine if I was going to stay up all night. Now, it was almost two AM, and I really didn't want to start driving to Seattle until at least four o'clock. I was pretty sure that I could try to drop my truck off early at Ballards, the transport station, but in case I couldn't, I didn't want to be waiting too long.

"Refill, hon?" the waitress asked, startling me. She was holding a pot of coffee, eyebrows raised in query. I felt like an idiot as I stared at her chest, where a little, googly-eyed pumpkin pin was pinned directly over her left boob.

"Oh," I said, tearing my eyes away from her and looking at my empty mug. I'd already consumed three cups, and slowly, but surely, my bladder was already feeling the pressure. "No, I think I'm okay for now."

"All right, then. Just wave me over if you need anything," she said, giving me a tired smile, and as she straightened her back, the pumpkin's eyes bounced around drunkenly. I wondered if that was how my eyes looked.

Nodding, I turned my attention back to my dessert. After I was done eating, I stared into space for an indiscernible amount of time, and then went to the ladies room. I took care of my business, and uninhibitedly snorted as I noticed a bright white scribble of '_Jessica Stanley Can Eat My Cooch' _written across the stall's door.

I chuckled as I washed my hands, thinking that, at least, there was someone in this town I was glad to leave behind. The paper towel dispenser was empty, so I dried my hands on my jeans, and my smirk melted off my face as I felt the lump of paper still wedged in my pocket. I pulled it out, spinning it around in my hands while eyeing the trashcan. I knew I had no use for the letter - if I kept it, it would remain nothing but a haunting reminder.

I sighed, licking my bottom lip, feeling the raw, chapped skin, due to being bitten all week. I knew that once I threw away my note, I would have nothing left of him; it wasn't as if he'd been the one to write it, but it was something he'd carried with him, something that he knew by heart, if he had been telling the truth. It was my last piece of him, in a way.

_Read it one time... then let it go._

Slowly, I unfolded it, noticing the wrinkles in the corners, the worn creases in the hubs of the folds. Maybe he had read it often, after all. I winced at my girlish handwriting for only a second before I began to read:

_Edward,_

_It's not often that I come across someone who I feel the desire _

_to fight for. Maybe it's because, for so long, I haven't truly seen. _

_I closed my eyes to everyone, and yet, somehow, you opened them. _

_And, I can't imagine that this is it for us._

_Please, don't give yourself away to something so awful. _

_I'm scared for you. You're worth so much more than you believe-_

_let me help you see the good that I see in your heart._

_I hope that if you ever change your mind, you'll think of me._

_It's never too late to help yourself. Meeting you was my proof, _

_and you lit a spark that I never would have found on my own. _

_Maybe, one day, I'll actually have the courage to say_

_this to your face. At least, I hope I'll have the chance._

_Call me. Please._

_-Bella_

I'd expected to be unsurprised by everything written. After all, I was the scripter; I already knew what it said before opening it. What I hadn't counted on was an additional post-script message. Underneath my phone number, which was scrawled below my name, was Edward's handwriting, though I knew instantly that the lines printed were not his words.

_The heart can think of no devotion_

_Greater than being shore to the ocean_

_Holding the curve of one position_

_Counting an endless repetition._

It was my favorite poem: Devotion, by Robert Frost. But _why _had he written it in my letter to him? I knew what that poem stood for, and it wasn't something casual, or funny, or witty wisdom. It was a confession.

_He doesn't _love _you. Don't be ridiculous. _But why would he have written it at all, or given the letter to me when he knew there was a chance I would read it?

Ambling back to my table, I slumped into the booth and folded the letter into a small rectangle. My head started to ache, and I knew there wasn't enough damn ice cream that was going to fix this. I was going to carry numerous questions and sadness on my shoulders for weeks, and it just didn't make sense.

If Edward _really _thought I deserved someone better, he wouldn't have driven hundreds of miles to tell me so. And, if he seriously wanted to be alone, he wouldn't have come back at all, or made contact of any kind, whether it was silence over the phone, or speaking inches away from my face.

He'd come back for _me_; the words were his own. But it was incomprehensible to _do _such a thing, only to proceed to tell me that we shouldn't keep in touch. Even though he cared about me, and I cared for him, he had made a decision to let me go. Something had changed his mind. He wouldn't have gone to the lodge if he didn't want to see me, and even though we'd surprised each other outside, I remembered him saying he was lucky to have caught me _before _I left.

I was wholly confused. If it had been his intention to see me, what changed after he _did _talk to me?

_Everything. _

I'd given him every reason to doubt himself the second I'd opened my mouth that morning. I let him know exactly how much he'd hurt me, how I was tired of crying over him. He probably wanted to explain things at his own pace, but I'd been impatient and had barely given him a chance. No _wonder _he'd muttered how he should have known better. _I _had changed his mind. Now, he was afraid of hurting me, and of getting hurt again, himself.

_Of course he is._

I tiredly rubbed my hand over my eyes, feeling _so _incredibly stupid. Edward had copious amounts of mental, physical, and emotional wreckage, and was dealing with exhaustion and sorrow on top of that-all on his own. I wasn't a stranger to pushing people away, or thinking I wasn't good enough, and, to me, it made sense that he would be scared to let me into his life, more than he already had. In addition, he thought he was a burden; and, despite my insistence that he _wasn't_, and telling him how much I cared about him, he was still stubborn, and truly believed that I was better off without him.

And, he was so, so wrong.

It didn't take me long to slap a twenty-dollar bill on the table, call out my gratitude to the waitress, and fly out of the diner. I jumped into my truck and slammed the door, shoving my purse between my duffel bags, doubtlessly crushing the train ticket that lay inside. I didn't care. I wouldn't be needing it.

All I could think about was how I wanted Edward - that I _needed _him. And, though I hadn't heard it directly from his mouth, I thought that he might need me, too. The drive to the lodge took two minutes, and I pulled right back into the same parking spot I'd originally occupied. I left my bags in my truck, figuring I could haul them back inside at an appropriate hour, and tucked my keys into my pocket as I jogged to the lodge's door, shivering from the wind. The little bell greeted me with its tinkling chime, welcoming me back for the umpteenth time, and I sucked in a deep breath as I walked_._

Maybe I was wrong, or just plain presumptuous. And, if it was possible, maybe I was going to make things even worse. But, remembering Doris's words, I knew that Edward and I weren't dead, yet. And, if I learned anything during my stay, it was that life was too short to be unhappy.

_This is okay. This is right._

I'd never been so enthusiastic about climbing those goddamn four flights of stairs.

-:-

**I hope the ending seemed promising. I may write the plot slowly, but I'm not one for jumping right into things - and I know a lot of you want E&B to jump right into bed and let the penguin panties meet the leprechaun boxers. Give me time. Hehe.**

**Some fic recs for your pleasure: "So Cruel" by Demosthenes91, "The Wingman" by ninapolitan, "A Rough Start" by ItzMegan73, and "Company Loves Misery" by AngstGoddess003. Oh, and-my lord-if you want to laugh your ass off - and I mean LOL so hard, you cry - read "I Wanna Eff You Like a Masochistic Lion" by Feisty Y. Beden (it's a collab, actually). It's complete crackfic (rated M) and I almost peed my pants, it was so hysterical. (And if you see this, congratulations, girls! I just heard you won the contest! Well-deserved, indeed!)**

**If you want to hear Edward's theme song, listen to "Pages" by 3 Doors Down. (Thanks to stolenxsanity! And I call myself a 3 Doors Down fan…how the hell did I miss that one?)**

**And, of course, thank you for reading. XOXO**


	24. Cordial Confessions & Familiar Fire

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own a new snow shovel, though, bitches! (That's meant for the snowflakes. Fear me, winter weather. I am prepared, now. Hoo-rah.)**

**Just to be clear, queenofgrey deserves an award, or something, for holding my hand through this, and pre-reading, and reassuring my insecure ass. Thanks, love.**

**And I'll babble at the bottom. *sheepish grin***

-:-

I slowed my footsteps on the second floor, when my Chariots of Fire mind-music and hasty pace were interrupted when I nearly tripped up the stairs. After all, people were sleeping and the staircase was moderately dark; the last thing I needed to do was fall and break my ass in the middle of the night, and have to cry for help and wake up all the guests.

My legs were burning by the time I finally reached Edward's door, and without warning, my nerves exploded and sent my heart into overdrive. For all I knew, he would open the door, roll his eyes, and say, "_Seriously? _You want to talk about this _again?!" _But, even if he willingly let me inside, I was most likely waking him out of much-needed sleep.

_Maybe you should wait until morning, after you _both _sleep._ Except, I didn't have a room key anymore.

Earlier, since the movie was still going on as I was leaving the lodge, I'd placed my key on Doris's desk with a quickly-scribbled note, explaining my early departure--of course, I made up a story about spending the night at Angela's, who I planned on calling as soon as I was onboard the train, anyway. And now, I was certain that Doris had retrieved my key and locked it up with the rest of the room keys, wherever they were.

I supposed I could go back to the lobby and sleep on one of the sofas until the sun came up, and explain that I was extending my stay…unless Edward decided that I was crazy for coming back. If that turned out to be the case, I supposed I could always give him the very famous, mature line of _'You started it.'_

_Stop pacing. Just knock or go downstairs._

I sucked in a deep breath as I clenched my fist, raising it to knock softly, but then stopped. His door wasn't shut all the way--I couldn't see inside; the door only seemed as though it hadn't been pushed completely closed. Thinking back, this wasn't the first time I'd been in this situation.

_Well, it's not like you haven't walked in without permission before. Go._

Cautiously, I pushed his door ajar, and a stream of faint, yellow light from the hallway infiltrated the dark room. The first thing I saw was Edward's familiar blue t-shirt, carelessly crumpled in a ball by the bed, covering the pair of shorts and a corner of the CD. As I opened the door further, I saw that his bed was empty, in order. The covers hadn't even been touched. He wasn't there.

_Shit. _I hadn't even checked to see if his car was in the parking lot. Had he left?

I pulled at my collar, wondering if he might have actually attempted to drive in his exhausted state. Wouldn't he have stayed the night, at _least _to catch up on sleep? Maybe he had simply gone for a drive or something, since he'd left his things…

_The things _you _gave back. Maybe he left them on purpose, now that they're tainted with your memory, too._

I sighed as I walked inside and fumbled for the lamp. I found the switch and turned it on, and my heart lurched into my throat as I realized that I was wrong: Edward hadn't gone anywhere. I could only see his legs, but he was sprawled on the floor by the fireplace, unmoving. A vicious wave of nausea flew through me as I darted to the edge of the bed, almost not wanting to see his collapsed form. This was going to be my nightmare, come to life.

"Holy shit," I breathed in a whisper, as I took in his appearance.

Instead of seeing him lying completely lifeless, or something similar, he was stretched out, breathing quietly, his head practically buried in the crook of his arm, which was supported by none other than the coat I'd given him during our first goodbye: a makeshift pillow. He was _sleeping_.

A bizarre combination of relief and worry swirled and pulsed through my chest, pushing against my palms as I held my hands over my heart, and I felt frozen, unsure of what to do; mostly, I was trying to think of why he would actually _choose _to curl up on the _floor_, of all places. Even if he had fallen asleep on top of the mattress and rolled off by accident, he wouldn't have landed at the _foot _of the bed, clutching his jacket. I supposed there was a reason for it; yet, I couldn't think of any good ones.

I was hesitant to shake him awake, even though I was anxious to know if he was okay. He'd been so tired…and if he didn't get enough rest, we probably wouldn't get beyond the expanse of the conversation that we had hours ago, anyway.

Tiptoeing back to the front of the room, I gently closed the door, deciding to wait with him, though a little voice in my head told me that, one of these days, I was going to have to stop invading his privacy. As I closed us inside, I hunched my shoulders, feeling my skin prickle with a chill. Edward hadn't touched his thermostat; he was probably freezing. I cranked up the central heat to seventy degrees, and carefully stepped over him, grabbing a knitted, burgundy blanket off the back of the armchair, against the opposite wall. Lightly shaking it until it unfurled, I draped the afghan over him, from his feet to his shoulders. He didn't stir, so I reluctantly sat to the side, tucking my feet under my legs so I wouldn't noisily tap them against the floor. Then, all I could do was watch him.

"What goes on behind closed doors, hmm?" I asked him in a hushed murmur, regardless of his unconsciousness.

He moved as I spoke, tensing his shoulder, and he brought his hand up to rub his eye. As he did so, the movement pulled the blanket higher, covering half of his face, and filaments of black-cherry weaving contrasted starkly against his bruises. It was then, that I noticed the skin around his eyes was slightly puffy, dusky from fatigue, yet faintly pink. That was new, and I only knew one thing that caused such a distinction in that short amount of time.

_Crying._

Still asleep, he let his hand fall back to the carpet, and after a few moments passed, I tentatively glided my fingertips over his soft cheekbone, feeling his eyelashes brush my hand. At that moment, I wanted to wake him. I wanted to pull him into my arms, insecurities be damned, and tell him I wasn't going anywhere; at least, not without him.

"You don't have to do this by yourself, you hear me?" I whispered softly. "Not anymore."

Eventually, as time passed, my eyes drooped and closed involuntarily, and after several jaw-snaps from jerking myself out of impending sleep, I stretched out on the floor beside him. I laid my head on my folded arms and continued to watch his lips part and press with slumbering breath, and it took all the energy I had left not to curl up against him, to meld his heart with mine, and pray that he would let me be there for whatever came next.

It seemed like only seconds later that I was opening my eyes and blinking away a blurry haze--I had fallen asleep. What had woken me wasn't so hazy, and was unfortunately familiar: the sound of Edward's distress as he slept.

Though, as I pushed myself up on my elbows to focus, what I was witnessing could hardly be defined as _sleep_. His breath was quick and grating before ceasing, stuck in his chest, and he released it in a abrupt, gasping exhale. Creased lines rippled across his forehead, and his brow furrowed deep, contracting tightly above his eyes, which were caging him in a painful darkness. I hated that he was suffering in such a horrible way from something involuntary--such a deceptive illusion--and there was no easy remedy for _that_.

Finally, I couldn't stand it; I reached over and smoothed his hair, navigating my fingers through his soft, jumbled cut. "Edward," I said softly, trailing my hand down his arm and giving him a gentle shake. "You're dreaming. Are you awake?"

He calmed briefly, but too soon starting moaning again, twisting his body and rolling onto his other side, facing away from me. His fingers clenched the blanket that was covering him, and I just as I put my hand on his shoulder to attempt to wake him once more, he inhaled stiffly and opened his eye--the one I could see, anyway. I pulled my hand back, watching him blink unfocusedly, and waited. He didn't notice me, as I was sitting in his blind spot; he was too busy staring at the handful of the blanket he was fisting, anyway.

_You're going to scare the hell out of him._

"Edward?" I practically whispered.

I heard his breath escape his lips in a rush. "You're kidding me," he murmured, shielding his eyes from the light.

_Congratulations, you've officially become the wart that just _will not _go away_. Swallowing, I replied softly, "I know. I'm sorry."

Suddenly, he sat up and whipped his head in my direction, rendering me rigid with uncertainty. He looked at me, appearing bewildered as he bunched the blanket in his fists. I pressed my lips together, trying to think of something intelligent to say, but then he smiled, chuckling darkly.

"Well, this is new," he said in a croaky, sleep-induced voice, eyeing me up and down. "I suppose I shouldn't complain."

I was utterly confused, and too nervous to think straight. "Huh?" I asked stupidly, feeling my heart battering against my ribs.

"You usually don't speak when I hallucinate," he answered, still staring at me in awe.

He thought he was _imagining _me? I laughed nervously, my fingers anxiously reaching for my hair. "You're not hallucinating. I'm just trespassing…again."

Edward eyed me skeptically, giving me a once-over before I finally held out my hand. "Do you want to poke me?"

_Um. Right. _That's _appropriate._

"To--to convince you I'm real?" I added quickly, instantly blushing at the puzzled look on his face. "I mean, I know I've used this excuse before, but your door was only partially closed, and I wanted to see if you were awake, and then I saw you on the _floor_--"

His eyebrows raised as I blathered, and I took a breath, shaking my head. "Well, if my idiotic rambling doesn't convince you, then here," I said, reaching down and placing my hand on his. "See? You're lucid. And I'm…just…"

"Here," he finished, still not taking his eyes off of me. "I thought you left."

"I did," I answered, glad he wasn't showing immediate signs of kicking me out. "It takes three and a half hours to get to Seattle, and I didn't want to go right away, so I kind of waited at the diner for awhile."

He ran his hand over his face, combing his hair back with his fingers before leaning against the bed frame. "Oh. Did they…close, or something?"

I shook my head. "No, they're open twenty-four hours." As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed, thinking I was a fucking idiot. He was probably wondering why the hell I was sitting in front of _him_, instead of in a diner booth. "Um…I just had a bit of an epiphany, that's all. So, I came back."

Edward ran his fingers under his bottom lip, appearing pensive, before cracking the smallest grin. "Did smacking Jessica light a fire under you, and now, you want to throw a punch at me before you leave, too?"

My eyes widened and I choked out a surprised laugh. I was astonished at his ability to actually joke around when he was, clearly, under emotional duress. So far, whatever he'd been dreaming about hadn't been enough to suck him into a panicked state, for which I was thankful; he probably was, too. "No. I don't want to hit you."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," he said, pulling the blanket further onto his lap, and then looked down. He stared at the fabric draped over his legs and then raised his eyes to mine, appearing curious.

"Oh, that was me," I admitted, spinning a wisp of hair around my fingers. "It was pretty cold in here, so I thought you might…need it." For some reason, I felt like I was confessing to _undressing _him in his sleep, instead of covering him up; I pressed my knuckles to my cheek, as if the action might extract the evidence of my embarrassment. "I turned up the heat, too. I hope that's okay."

He nodded, his eyes full of an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. "It's fine. Thank you."

"Sure," I said shyly, lifting my knees to my chest and folding my arms over them.

A few moments passed, and I tried to think of how to begin, or to explain what I was thinking without going off on an emotional, unorganized tangent.

"I think I understand what you meant earlier, about not wanting to say goodbye anymore," he said, breaking my concentration. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking somewhat thwarted. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it when you leave again. You're right. It really does hurt worse, each time."

He thought _that _was why I was back--to maybe try and get in the last word, and tell him goodbye once more. I opened my mouth to explain that he had the wrong idea, but he continued. "Watching you walk away was…unbearable. I don't think I can--"

He swallowed, cutting himself off, and his expression was like watching something precious shatter into unfixable pieces. It was upsetting to know that _I _was causing him to look that way.

"No, no, don't," I said pleadingly, clumsily pushing myself off the floor, moving toward him and pulling his arm until he was close enough, so I could wrap my arms around him. I tucked my head against his shoulder and strengthened my grip, instantly easing the pain on my end with his body's contact; I only hoped some of his anguish was dissipating with mine.

_Well, maybe if you don't choke him to death. Loosen up._

"Sorry," I said, relaxing my embrace, yet, my lungs tautened as I felt his arms encircle _my _back, and his cheek press against _my _head. He was okay with it; he was giving back, and I was relieved. I managed to whisper, "I just hate when you look like that, especially because of something _I _did."

"I had it coming," he answered, his voice laced with an achingly familiar tone--the careful, tortured one he used when he was holding back a slew of emotion. "I know I hurt you tonight, and I deserve to watch you go again and again, and feel every bit of agony that comes with it, but--" His arms stretched over my shoulder blades and my lower back, and he pulled me tighter against his chest, his fingers curling around my side. He inhaled, his breath shuddering, and I realized he was clutching me in desperation. "But _please_, don't go yet. Just give me a few minutes to hold you, please…"

My eyes widened, stinging, and I rubbed his back in sympathy before resting my hands on his neck. "I won't," I said, sliding my fingers into his hair. "I mean, I'm not. I'm--"

Suddenly, he hissed through his teeth, just as my fingernails brushed over what felt like a rough lump on the side of his head. I jerked my hand away and he exhaled laboriously; I'd hurt him. I tried to lean back to see his face, but his grasp was firm.

"Are you okay?" I asked, gingerly smoothing the back of his head, instead. "I'm sorry. When did that happen?"

His breath was strained and shallow against my neck. "Sunday," he rasped, still clutching me securely.

I removed one arm from around his back, moving my thumb to my mouth, and started to bite my nail uneasily. "Sunday," I repeated, narrowing my eyes in thought. "Sunday night?"

When he didn't answer, I put my arm back around him and clasped my hands together. His phone call had been on Monday morning--almost one AM. It would have been close to three AM, his time. Maybe _that _was what made him call--something had happened to him; maybe that was when he'd been hurt.

I rested my chin on his shoulder and stroked his back, slowly becoming aware that he was starting to slightly tremble under my touch. "Edward?" I said timidly.

My voice only seemed to upset him further. I could hear the coarse grate of his vocal cords as he gasped, shaking his head. "Please, Bella, not yet."

He thought I was leaving him. Even in his arms, I felt cold, because he was slipping, slowing succumbing to grief, and maybe fear, too.

"Look at me," I implored, pushing out of his clasp, which was difficult, but he finally let me go, and his arms fell to his sides in defeat. His head lolled to his left shoulder, and though he had his eyes closed, tears were streaming down his flushed face, and under his jaw. I quickly brushed them away with my thumbs. "Edward?" I tried again, ignoring the spread of stifling worry in my chest.

He held up one finger, then tugged the collar of his shirt, swallowing and letting his breath out in a slow exhale. His breathing sounded labored, and I felt my own throat constrict as I realized what was happening. He wasn't panicking, but he appeared close to losing some sort of control.

"What can I do?" I asked nervously, placing my hand on his knee; I didn't want to get too close if he already felt like he couldn't breathe. "Do you want some water, or something? Or should I just…back off?"

Edward finally opened his eyes, which were flashing malachite anxiety, and he struggled to straighten his back, his knuckles growing white as he clenched the fabric of his sweatpants. "Distract me?"

_Right. Distract him. Fuck._

"O-okay," I said, shrugging off my hoodie. For a second, he froze, his expression slightly surprised, and I stopped, staring back at him. Oh--did he think I was taking off my clothes_?! _I quickly tossed my sweater to the side, knowing I was the color of a flaming fire truck, and cleared my throat. "I'm just hot, that's all," I added.

_Keep going. God's not uncontrollably snorting quite yet._

"Um," I continued, wringing my fingers together. My eyes fell upon his coat that was on the floor, next to us. "You, uh--you told me you were at the hospital for being dehydrated, right? And I'm not saying you're lying, but it wasn't because of something else, too, was it? Like, an STD?"

I was certain he thought I was insane by the flustered, bewildered look on his face.

"It's just that I got your coat from a place called Newton's Outfitters," I continued in a hurry. "It's that sports store up the street. Anyway, I'm asking because Mike Newton works there--remember that guy who was screwing Lauren down the hall that one night? I mean, it's not like he's going around humping the men's coat displays or anything…it's just, I think of Mike, and all I want to do is dip everything he touches in hydrochloric acid."

Little bits of victorious warmth spread through my chest as Edward unclenched his fingers, releasing his clothes, and rested his hands on the floor, breathing out shakily, but slowly. I reached down and tentatively took his hand, which was tepid with sweat. He seemed all right with my gesture, so I scooted next to him, touching my shoulder to his arm.

"Also, if you ever go shopping there, be sure to stay out of the bathrooms," I went on. "I accidentally overheard Mike and Jessica. They were…well, you know. He was sticking his candy cane in her…holiday stocking."

Edward looked at me, still coming across a bit boggled, but he choked out a laugh--it was quiet, but present. "Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What are you, a magnet for those situations?"

"Yeah, lucky me," I said amusingly, caressing his hand, trying to restrain from clutching his arm in some kind of anaconda hold. I listened to his calculated, deep breathing, reassured that his discomfort didn't seem to be mounting. _So far, so good_.

"Anyway, I bet you're sorry you missed it, but a sequel usually isn't as good as the original, anyway," I joked lightly, though, thinking back, the ball-pinching-skirt moment _had _been pretty entertaining. "I hope there isn't a chance of a trilogy while we're here."

He cleared his throat and rested his head on his knees, turning to face me with tired eyes. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he said huskily, in between breaths. "You're leaving in probably less than an hour or so; even _they _aren't trashy enough to pull off another spectacle in that amount of time. Unless Lauren and Jessica are taking a train ride today."

I smiled, reaching over to brush his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Well, as much fun as _that _would be to witness," I said, chuckling, "I won't be on the train. That's what I was going to tell you--I'm not leaving. Not today, or tomorrow…I really don't know when. It kind of depends on you."

"Me?" he echoed in a winded voice, his eyebrows gathering together in a confused crease.

"Well," I said, staring at his hand, lightly tracing my fingertips over his knuckles. "You are _not _easy to figure out, but, apparently, I'm slow on the uptake, anyway."

He still appeared at a loss, and I sighed, feeling remorseful.

"I forgot," I admitted, growing quiet. "Every memory of what I wrote to you slipped out of my mind the second I saw you yesterday. I promise, none of my feelings disappeared…they just got buried by my insecurities, I guess."

I peered at him thoughtfully, hoping I wasn't going to stress him out all over again, but he was listening intently--even his breathing was settling down.

"It honestly didn't even cross my mind that you might have been here for _me_--for any reasons that had to do with what I wrote in your letter, not until it was too late," I continued, fidgeting, unable to stop working my hands over his. "I'm _such _an idiot, because I forgot long enough to make you doubt yourself. And I'm _so _sorry if I made you change your mind--about anything."

Edward put his hand over his eyes, circling his thumb against his temple. Feeling uncertain, I put my arm around his back and rested my cheek on his shoulder, closing my eyes at the warmth he provided.

"I don't want you to push me away because you're afraid that you might hurt me, or because I might be better off with someone else," I stressed, knotting my fingers into his shirt. "I don't need to be _spared _from you, like you were saying. Don't you understand how much I want this? How much I want _you_?"

The hand that was covering his face slid into his hair, and I raised my head as he stared at me with a tender mix of sorrow and disbelief.

"Please don't pretend for my sake, just because you think it's safer if I go," I murmured softly, feeling my face burn. "I need you to be honest. If you were just trying to protect me, then that's my fault for not assuring you sooner. But, if you're protecting _yourself_, because you're afraid of getting hurt, and you really don't want to do this…then, I'll just…"

_Shatter_._ Sob. Vomit. Perhaps all three._

"Have to work on dealing with that," I finished, hoping the waver in my voice wasn't as prominent as it sounded. "But you have to tell me the truth."

I lowered my eyes, then, and stared at our feet. His responses were usually hard to predict, and after pouring out my feelings, I felt vulnerable again. He was very capable of destroying my heart at that moment, and I was willingly giving him that choice, but there was equal potential for him to give us hope.

Edward always took his time in deliberating crucial answers, and thankfully, I could hear his breath evening out, so didn't feel bad about diverting my thoughts for a minute. I needed a mental time-out; my chest was already too tight, and I needed to stay strong--I didn't want to be the next one to start shaking with anxiety, waiting with bated breath for him to make, or break us. I was in the middle of noticing that one of my black socks was a tad lighter than the other, and wondering how the hell that happened when I _always _washed them together, when he finally spoke.

"I wasn't pretending the whole time," he said in a weary voice.

I kept my stare on the ground, disallowing myself to jump to any conclusions.

He cleared his throat and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his head before he resumed. "I still think you deserve someone who wouldn't prove to be such a nervous wreck--we both can't pretend like I didn't give you an emotional headache every single day."

I pursed my lips, about to tell him that probably could go both ways, but I decided not to interrupt him.

"And it really _doesn't _make sense for us to feel so strongly for each other after a week," he expressed frankly. "I kept asking myself if I was being honest--if I really wanted _you_, or if I was just grasping for something that would make me feel better?"

He slid his hand out of mine, and I winced, afraid of where his words were leading. But then, his arm draped around my back, and he inched closer, bringing his face to my hair. "I'd be lying if I said you didn't make me forget about my fucked-up life, or that I feel normal--good_--so _good with you, because I do. But it's so much deeper than that--you're always honest with me, and aren't afraid to put me in my place. You make me feel safe, and happy, and you make me _laugh_, of all things--and, Jesus, Bella, I barely even _smiled _for over a year."

Suddenly, Edward sat up again and lifted my chin, gazing at me with impassioned eyes. "I heard what you said, but… am I crazy? You really want…this? Me, and all the emotional ruin I carry on my shoulders?"

He let out a strangled chuckle, and I could see elements of incredulity and raw vulnerability transpire through his stare. My whole body leaned toward him in a magnetic pull, and I nodded, never more certain. "Everything that you are, yes." That _heat_--it was inescapable. "… Do you still want me?"

"God, _yes_," he breathed, s0 close to my cheek, I could barely stand it. I cupped his face, feeling the scratch of stubble on my palms, and I hummed unspoken wishes as I brushed my lips against his skin. His lips found mine for a moment, the shortest, softest, gentlest sweep, before I felt him hesitate, slightly ducking his head. When I pulled back to look at him, he was still so terribly upset. It was excruciating.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing that this would have either been the perfect time, or the very worst time, to do something like that. Even though he had made the move, I had initiated it.

"No--I want to, you have no idea how much," he said, sliding his hands to my wrists. "It's just--I feel like there's more you need to know, first."

I shook my head in agreement, willing to listen to him all night, if that's what it took. I was sure I'd end up looking like a haggard, heavy-lidded wretch, but I would do it.

"I--I can't tell you how much this scares me," he confessed, his voice like wind on water. "I'm far more afraid of hurting _you _than myself, especially since--I mean, anyone who offers me what you have deserves a fucking trophy, but I'm terrified of scaring you off. It's just--when I was gone, things happened that I didn't anticipate. And I--"

He dropped his head into his hands, treating his temples as if they were knots, pushing and massaging like he was in pain--and maybe he was, considering whatever head injury he'd managed to acquire while he was gone.

"When I called you, it was to say goodbye," he muttered, grimacing as he rubbed his head, and he began speaking hastily. "I was out of my goddamned mind. I told Carson that I didn't want to look for the unsub--the killer--anymore, and right after, I ran into Justin's brother and got my ass kicked just for _breathing_, I guess, because it's my fault that Justin's gone, and later, I woke up, and I couldn't stop seeing these _horrible _memories in my head--things I try so hard to forget, but they just keep coming back--"

Edward stopped to take a breath, and I sat silently, stroking the back of his neck, biting my lip to keep from crying. He was opening his wounds, bringing forth the poison, and flushing himself void of all doubt and afflictions, but in doing so, he was shattering.

"I was hurting, feeling incompetent because I couldn't bring myself to continue this _hunt _I was on," he rushed on, fresh tears brimming on his lashes. "And I was just so tired, and I couldn't even _sleep_, and I merely thought that if I heard your voice, or said goodbye properly, maybe I could _finally _be at peace with something when I fucking ended it."

My thoughts were in a whirlwind with his words. I expected that whatever he'd been through was going to make an awful story, and it did. I had worried about him constantly, and prayed that, somehow, whatever he was dealing with wouldn't be enough to crush him--that he would be okay through it all, but _my God_.

"Ended it?" I repeated, my stomach rolling sickeningly.

"Me. My life. Everything." His throat was clotted with aching emotions, and he finally released his head, starting to entwine his fist into his shirt. "I just wanted to be done."

I nodded slowly, my breath feeling like toxic fumes in my throat. The thought of him all alone and feeling so terrible, so blameworthy--enough to want to _end _his life--was horrifying, nauseating. Hot, traitorous tears spilled down my cheeks; here I was, again, trying to be strong for him, and I was breaking down like a PMS-ing, Lifetime-Movie-Network-watching, mental case.

"I--I'm--" I was afraid to express my sympathies, thinking it might make him feel even worse. I could barely find my voice, either, but managed to weakly say, "But you didn't do it."

He cleared his throat, wiping his face clear of all the evidence of his own grief, and still didn't look at me. His half-hidden expression was radiating shame and despair. "No. I started to, but I stopped. I couldn't get your voice--that anxious, caring tone you had on the phone--out of my head. I was taking pills, and every time I swallowed, I'd hear you."

It took me a few seconds to realize that I was holding my breath.

"I didn't take much," he continued, fisting a handful of his hair, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Hearing you--imagining you--it made me hesitate. Then, I started thinking how it wasn't right, and that I'd promised myself I would never do something like that--not when my parents didn't have a choice. I never wanted an easy way out. It would be an insult to their memory."

Edward's hands were continuously busy, threading through his hair and moving to interlace his fingers, restlessly bouncing on the corner of his knee, and I sat, frozen.

"I should probably say thank you, or something," he continued, "because if I hadn't called you that night, I'm not sure if I would have stopped."

I couldn't breathe at all, now. The air was stagnant, painfully stuck in my chest, and slowly began to sting. I pulled at my sleeves, trying not to envision what would have happened if he'd been successful, because the mere thought was _so _horrific, I knew that, if I allowed myself to imagine it, I wouldn't sleep peacefully for weeks. Struggling to expel a breath, I was finally able to choke out a strained, tearful, "I'm so _sorry_, Edward…"

He snapped his head up quickly, looking at me with anxious eyes that burned. Suddenly, all I could think of was how angry I'd been over his phone call, and how he'd said he would have taken it back because I'd been so upset. Jesus Christ, I'd even teased him about it.

"If I would have known--" I pressed my hands over my mouth because I was going to cry--_really _cry--the breakdown-in-the-goddamned-shower kind of cry. If I had known that was what had been happening to him, I would have been on a plane to Chicago without thought of clothes, money, or consequence of any kind. I would have done whatever I could to help; I would have taken care of him, or hell--_I_ would have tracked down and shot the lunatic he was after, if it helped. Instead, I hadn't done anything--not that I could have done much, but maybe I could have tried harder to get in touch with him. I could have sent Charlie a fucking sweet potato pie and bribed him to pull up Edward's records and give me an address, or a phone number _that _way. I could have done something else, other than sitting around, feeling pathetic. "God, I am so, so sorry I ever said--"

There wasn't time to play Sesame Street Countdown. I was sobbing in between words, already. My eyes were blurry and I only reached haphazardly for his hand, if he would allow me to take it, but I was surprised to quickly find myself pulled forward, ending up with a mouthful of his shirt. Endlessly scooping me into his arms, _he _was comforting _me_, now.

I tried hard to regain control of my composure and stop being such a miserable crybaby, because _he _was the one who deserved consoling, not _me_, especially not when I was the one who had been wrong in the first place. But I couldn't concentrate on anything except the feel of his arms around me, the contentment he provided, and the sweet scent of his hair, his skin. I breathed him in, immersing myself in the relief that he was here, and whole.

"I'm sorry I said--I made you feel like--calling me wasn't--I'm so--"

I wasn't making sense, and only ended up crying harder, squeezing my hands against his back. Edward shushed me gently, tucking his head to the corner of my neck.

"Don't ever apologize for being you," he whispered, granting me small, warm kisses up to my ear.

His lips were like flames to ice, melting the solid tension I'd built up since the previous evening. I clutched handfuls of his shirt as my tears soaked through it, marveling at his ability to brush aside my apologies as if they were unneeded; he'd shown me countless times that he was unconditionally forgiving, and always striving to make things right in his own way. His decisions were complicated, and he'd tread on rocky ground for so long, but he still survived. He was amazingly strong, even if he didn't think so, because he'd dragged himself through hell and back--back to _me_, of all things--and even with his self-sacrificing ways, he had come back with hope.

Even though my Iffybella personality had made an appearance, temporarily hindering that hope for the both of us, he was still willing, and I couldn't ask for more than a second chance. His arms were enough, and we sat in embracing quiet, letting our bodies express what words could not. My thoughts melded to him completely, as his hands continued their soothing path of exploration through my hair, over my back. Then, his fingers slid to my waist, squeezing just enough to make my tears cease and my breath change. Suddenly, his touch was different--it was lingering, sweeping a slow, tingling trail from my sides to my shoulders, and as I finally leaned back, separating us, his hand glided across the exposed skin on my chest.

In equal precision, our heads lifted and our eyes met. So much need, and such intensity. For the second time that night, I was unable to breathe.

"I dreamed about you so many times," he said, his gentle, persistent touch scaling to my chin. "You always looked as you do now. Beautiful…and sad." His thumb captured a lasting tear on my cheek, carefully gliding his hand over the curve of my face, almost as if he was memorizing me. "I know I have to try to get better. I _want _to. But I promise I'll do whatever I can to erase the pain I caused you."

I shook my head, wiping my eyes so he wouldn't have to. "It's okay, it's done," I replied sincerely. "I know that was just your protective side coming out--you told me about that the first day we met. Your whole warning label comment, remember?"

I gave him a small smile, regardless of the serious air. "Besides--what you just said: you want to try to get better? _That_'s the important thing. Nothing else exceeds that."

Edward looked uncertain, but he didn't argue. Slowly, he leaned toward me and kissed my forehead in a gentle sequence, stopping only to press his cheek against mine, and I grew lightheaded. The warmth, combined with his heady scent and the soothing relief that we were finally being honest and moving past so much insecurity, made me eager again, and all the blood that was pumping through my chest and swelling in my lips grew feverish.

As I pulled back, hoping to join my lips with his, I reconsidered once I took a good look at him. His eyes were inflamed and bloodshot, and beyond the fragments of pretense he was still donning, I could see that he didn't feel well. Exhaustion, anxiety, and tears were a thorny combination; mentally and physically, he needed to sleep. And I was suddenly very aware that I hadn't brushed my teeth.

"So, um," I said, looking around the room, "do you mind putting me up for the night? I returned my room key and I figure Doris wouldn't be excited to be woken up at three AM to give me another."

"Are you really asking me that?" Edward said with a small chuckle. "Like I would say no."

"Well, I think I've been plenty presuming in the past twenty-four hours," I pointed out. "I'm one step away from being Jessica Stan--"

"Shh," he said, pressing his fingers to my lips. "You can stay. And, no, you're not. Hush."

"I do have one more question, though," I said, eyeing him curiously. He waited expectantly, and I ran my fingers over the worried creases across his forehead, giving him a small grin. "Can we please sleep in your bed? I mean, as nice as it was to pass out on this awesome carpet…"

Edward returned my smile, his eyes genuinely brightening, and he pulled my hands to lift me to my feet. "If you absolutely insist," he teased. "Wait--you fell asleep?"

"Waiting for you to wake up, yeah," I admitted, twisting and stretching my muscles. I was definitely starting to feel the three miles I'd run. "…Why were you on the floor, anyway?"

He reached down to retrieve his coat and folded it over his arm, studying the area where we'd just been sitting. "I…" He pensively ran his thumb under his bottom lip. "I don't suppose you'd believe that I think beds are overrated."

I cocked an eyebrow. "No."

"I didn't think so," he said, brushing past me to place his coat on the armchair. "I just sort of ended up there. I thought about lighting a fire…" His eyes were distantly wistful for a moment before he sighed, shrugging. "Hell, I guess I can't feel any more pathetic tonight. I cried. A lot. And I didn't feel like getting up."

I lightly rocked on my heels, biting my lip. "Don't feel pathetic. I cried, too. At least you didn't eat two bowls of ice cream."

Edward let out a mysterious chuckle, sounding more cynical than he did amused. "No. No, I didn't."

I grimaced, feeling the inevitable blush on my cheeks. "Yeah, well, I guess it was better than going back to the bar."

"Hmm? Oh--no--I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I don't care if you ate an entire carton. I…don't listen to me, Bella. I'm…just…"

"Tired?" I offered.

He nodded, emphasizing it further by rubbing his eyes. "Yeah." I couldn't help but smile as he pushed his hair back, muttering under his breath, "_Christ_, _Edward_…" But, there was such a peculiar vibe in his eyes, I couldn't help but feel curious. I was beginning to think his secretive persona was going to remain everlasting.

"I left all my stuff in my truck," I finally mentioned, and gestured to the floor by the night table. "Would you mind if I borrowed your shirt again? To sleep in?"

"Oh, sure," he said, craning his neck to look where I was pointing. "Do you want one that hasn't been on the floor? I have plenty."

"I don't mind," I said, picking up the shirt and shaking it gently. "I've gotten attached to this one." _You know, blood-sweat-and-tears attached. _He probably wouldn't want to wear it again if he ever found out what I'd put it through.

"You should keep it," he replied. "I mean, if you'd like to. I know you like Robert Frost… and I only wear it to sleep in, anyway."

_Ha_. So he _did _know that poem.

I tucked the shirt over my arm, giving him a shy grin. "You sure?"

"Well, maybe under one condition," he said, walking toward me, causing my heart to pick up at the thought of what he might say, or do. "Although, it's hardly appropriate of me to ask…"

He stopped a foot away and did something very unfair to my hormones; he slowly ran his hand through his gorgeous hair, and as his fingers passed through it, little tendrils sprang forth in rapid succession, layering over his forehead, leaving the rest of his hair in sexy disarray. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my thoughts clean…which was difficult.

_Sex hair. Coitus cut. Just-been-fucked-and-popped mop. Damn it_. What was he going to say?!

Edward studied me for a few moments, looking a bit apprehensive, regardless of double-pump of blood under my skin. He ran his fingers under the hem of his shirt, lightly rubbing his side, and it was enough to grant me a glimpse of the trail of hair on his stomach. I swallowed.

_You're staring at his happy trail. How about not ogling him in plain sight?_

I snapped my eyes back to his narrowed ones, biting my bottom lip to keep from licking it. Finally, he gazed at me, so uncertain and beautiful, it was hard to think straight. "Can I have my letter back?" he asked softly.

_Oh. Well, that's what you get for being a hussy._

"Oh," I said, reaching into my pocket, pulling out the golden paper. "This?"

_No, Bella, he means a copy of The Vagina Monologues. Yes, _that _letter!_

He hesitated, absentmindedly stroking the bruise on his cheek before he nodded. "I know I don't deserve--"

Before he could finish, I pushed the note into his hands and shook my head. "No, no more of that tonight. It's always been yours." I curled his fingers around the paper, and gently pushed him toward the bed. "Your turn to hush."

It took him a moment, but he quietly exhaled. "Thank you," he murmured, running his fingers along the main fold of the paper. He peered at the note as if he was in deliberation, and when he looked at me, I felt a nervous bubble in my stomach, wondering if he would ask if I had seen his little addition of script. But he remained silent, simply turning and tucking the letter back into his coat--into the pocket that I'd originally, and clandestinely, placed it so many weeks ago.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" I asked, slipping off my shoes and setting them next to the fireplace, by my hoodie.

Edward looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, nodding. "Yes. I do, actually." He chuckled, setting his mouth in a comical smirk.

He was teasing me. _Sexy fucker_. I rolled my eyes playfully, then looked around for my purse--I needed a ponytail holder. And then I remembered I'd left everything, including my purse, in my car.

"Crap," I muttered, thinking that I might have to run down to my truck, after all. Even if I didn't feel like digging, I knew for a fact that a hair tie was around the gear shift.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked, folding the afghan and placing it across the top of the armchair.

"I might go grab my purse out of my truck," I said, reaching to collect my keys out of my hoodie's pocket. "I need a hair tie. Getting my toothbrush probably wouldn't hurt, either."

"I have one you could use," he said, picking one of his familiar black bags off the floor. He unzipped a side pouch and pulled out a handful of packaged toothbrushes. "Do you have a color preference?" he asked with a small smile.

I raised my eyebrows, smiling. "Were you in the Boy Scouts, or something? Always prepared for a plaque crisis?"

He practically snorted. "Yeah, I got the Best Dental Hygiene badge," he joked. "I always keep a bunch of these with me. When I'm on the road, I tend to accidentally leave them in different hotels, or wherever. And I've dropped more than a few on gas station floors, so… it helps to have extras on hand."

It was almost comical, yet touchingly sad, to think of him on the road, in the past, on a mission of revenge with a bag full of toothbrushes, taking care of his teeth in a _gas station_, of all places. The thought made me want to hug him again, but the mood had turned surprisingly light, and I wanted to hold onto that for a bit longer, if I could.

I mumbled a quiet thank you and chose a red brush, then smirked. "I don't suppose you got the Best Aid in Girl Hair Care badge, too, did you?"

He scoffed a laugh, scratching over his eyebrow with mild amusement, almost seeming embarrassed.

"I'm kidding, Edward," I said, nudging his arm. "I'll just hold my hair back and wash my face with one hand; girls can multitask in times of need, you know."

I grinned again, but Edward creased his eyebrows, his expression still somewhat sheepish. He cleared his throat and pushed his sleeve up his left arm. "Well, as long as we're confessing things tonight…" He held up his wrist, which was encircled with a small, black band. He pulled it off and held it out to me. "It's yours," he said, giving me a slight nod.

Curiously, I took it: it _was _my hair tie. "How did you get this?" I inquired, trying to think if I had ever asked him to hold one for me. I couldn't recall a time.

"Remember the night I first told you I was leaving?" he asked, unrolling his sleeve. "Well, the first time I _thought _I was leaving, anyway… It was the night I told you about Justin."

I nodded, though I still couldn't remember giving him anything that had to do with my hair.

"We were downstairs in the lobby, talking," he continued. "It was right after I acted like a jerk, and I was attempting to apologize… And little strands of hair kept falling in your face and you finally just ripped the… thing out."

_The thing. Men_.

"I found it when you went upstairs--when I went to turn out the light, it was on the table. I'm not really sure why I took it. I suppose because I thought I was leaving… I guess I wanted something to remember you by." Edward sat on the edge of the bed and rolled his shoulders, narrowing his eyes to me, gauging my reaction. "Honestly, I forgot I had it, since I stayed, I mean," he added quickly. "It was in my pocket, in a pair of jeans. I didn't find it until I left for Minnesota."

"Why do you look so ashamed of yourself?" I asked, cracking a smile. "You kept a hair tie…I kept your _clothes._ I'd say I'm the bigger offender, here."

He shrugged, looking a bit relieved. "I suppose I thought you might think it was strange."

"Hmm," I said, pursing my lips in jest. "You met me when I had blood running down my face. You heard me sleep-talk your name, and then I recited _poetry _to you when you could barely breathe. And then I pilfered a gun out of your locked car. So, uh… of all things, I don't think you keeping my _hair tie _is strange."

He grinned. "I'm having a few second thoughts about you, now, though…"

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," I said, only half-serious. "I really am kind of a nut job."

"Go to the bathroom," he ordered lightheartedly, pointing to the door. "Help yourself to whatever you need."

Snickering, I walked inside and closed the door behind me. I'd never been in his bathroom before. It was highlighted in peach tones and was smaller than mine, only containing a shower, toilet, and sink; I supposed I'd been the lucky one with a bathtub, even though I only used it once--and that was to cry in. Across the sink, there was a bottle of mouthwash, toothpaste, and floss.

Edward _flossed_. Of _course _he did, with those sparkly, white teeth. I ran my tongue over my teeth in deliberation; I always hated flossing--mostly because every time I did it, I usually ended up bleeding as though I'd slit some kind of major gum artery, if there had ever been such a thing.

_Ugh. Skip it for today. Tomorrow, you can be all floss-awkward in the privacy of your own bathroom._

I pulled off my clothes and folded them into a small pile, hiding my bra in between the folds of my shirt. Once I'd pulled my hair up and slipped on _my _shirt, I took the toothbrush out of its package, dropped the trash in a wastebasket, and brushed my teeth, oddly excited by the fact that I knew exactly what _his _mouth tasted like at that moment; it was only 'Clean Mint,' but it was still kind of thrilling.

_You're so fucking weird. It's _toothpaste_. Would you be excited if it was that homemade clay crap? …Yes. Yes, you would be. _

I washed the traces of minty foam down the sink and proceeded to splash my face with warm water, then peeked through the glass shower doors. I wondered if he had any face cleanser…he _had _said to help myself. I swiped my chin, brushing away the drops of water, and slid one of the shower doors open. Sure enough, next to a bottle of shampoo, there was a small bottle of face wash that was boldly labeled 'So Clean For _Men_,' which made me giggle. I skimmed the rest of the small print: 'Made with sandalwood and vanilla essential oils.'

_Well, doesn't _that _explain everything. Edward in a bottle._

I rubbed the gel into a lather, breathing in the aroma as though it was oxygen, and it tingled and cooled my skin in a gratifying fashion. Smelling like him was alluring, and I suddenly had an urge to run the shower and see what else I could get out of this experience--there was still his shampoo and body wash to discover. I would be willing to let the scent of everything he owned surround me as I pressed my back against the slick tiles, imagining that he was the one to smooth soap and bubbles over my skin, through my hair. The thought of it--the invisible _feel _of it--my body grew tensed instantly, and a pulsing heat spread between my legs--

_Okay, okay, okay. Cut. It. Out. Now. Leave it to _you _to get all hot and bothered all from using freaking face wash…_

I twisted the cold water to a strong blast, splashing my face a few more times, before turning the sink off and reaching for a towel. At least I could attribute my reddened cheeks to washing my face. When I finally opened the door to walk back into the bedroom, I caught a split second of Edward, leaning his head on his hand with his eyes closed, but he sat up straight, blinking quickly, before I could take a step.

"Sorry," he said, standing up and running his hand over his eyes.

I shook my head. "You don't have to apologize for being tired," I said, setting my folded clothes by the fireplace. "_I'm _beat--I can only imagine how _you _feel."

"I'll be all right," he assured me, placing his hand on my shoulder and nudging me toward the bed as he turned toward the bathroom. "Pick a side. I'll be out in a minute."

He retreated behind the bathroom door, and I chose the side closest to the front door, remembering he liked to be nearer to the windows. I was surprised at how natural it felt to be in his bed again; the folds of the hunter green comforter were familiar, soft, and reminiscent of the warm glint I longed to see in Edward's eyes again.

_One day and night at a time, girl._

When the rush of water ceased from the bathroom, Edward emerged moments later, slightly flushed from washing his own face, I guessed. He boyishly ruffled his hair and gave me a heartwarming half-smile as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. He got under the comforter, and as his head hit one of the pillows, his eyes closed, and the sigh that escaped his lips was flooded with relief, or maybe exhaustion--probably a combination of both.

I reached over and rubbed my hand along his arm. "Do I have time to say goodnight before I lose you?" I asked, kidding.

"Mm, I'm not going to sleep yet," he said in a feathery voice, his heavy, hooded eyes remaining closed. "I'm trying to tell myself you'll still be here when I open my eyes."

Laughing through a yawn, I hugged a pillow and inched closer to him. "Still don't believe that I'm real?"

Edward winced as he pressed the ball of his hand to his forehead, breathing softly, deeply. "I'm deliberating."

"Are you okay?" I asked, my fingertips lingering on the edge of the blanket, watching him fight to pacify the tensing ache that was almost certainly swimming below his mind and muscle, one that couldn't easily be rubbed away.

Even so, before he could speak, I gently kneaded the back of his neck, letting my hand glide over the frame of his shoulders. He hummed a sound, a conflicted answer that I couldn't distinguish--a simultaneous yes and no, maybe. Of all things, at that moment, he was a collision of crushing struggle and profound intensity, of glass emotions and flares of pain behind emerald, firewater eyes. He was tired, stained with dark memories, yet, trying to persevere for something better. He was not okay, but that didn't mean he wouldn't ever be.

My fingers found his silken hair and I continued to comb and smooth every strand that I could reach, and eventually, the sharp creases along his forehead lessened. He dropped his hand, and when he opened his eyes, he kept them lowered, fixed on the sheets. I studied him thoughtfully, moving to caress his roughly-stubbled cheek, his chin, and finally resting my hand on his wrist.

"How are you here?" he asked aloud, though he didn't look at me.

I brushed my thumb over his hand, exhaling slowly. "Well… you came back for me… Why wouldn't I come back for you?"

Edward's glistening eyes flashed to mine, making my breath catch with his deep stare. His throat jerked as he swallowed, and he pulled his hand back, lifting the covers that lay in the space between us.

"Come here," he almost whispered, sounding as though he was asking. "Please?"

I was only frozen for two seconds, and then finally snapped out of it, rolling toward my end of the bed to switch off the lamp, then moving back to the center. I felt for him in the dark, and Edward took me into his arms, blindly tucking me snugly to his chest. I reveled in the contact of my bare legs on the shape of his, the whispered friction of fabric as we moved in rhythm, finding ourselves at the fortune of being face to face, nose to nose. His breath danced with mine, warm and fresh, inviting.

"I…" He said, his voice hushed. I waited, but he didn't finish. Just as I started to say, or stutter, something back, he stopped me, eclipsing my words with his lips. The warm, gentle pressure made me whimper softly, and I gave back mildly, tenderly.

We moved, not in an eager craze, but a slow, desired exploration, a healing of cracks from the past few weeks. His mouth was supple and rewarding, and I could taste the mint on his lips that mirrored the flavor of my own. His hands were delicate, flowing through my hair and pulling me closer. Each movement, press, and brush of skin was precious, wanted, needed.

"Bella," Edward breathed, breaking away with an affectionate hum against my cheek, and his hand on my neck felt deeper than just the surface of my skin, heating me thoroughly on the inside, as well. "How can I--how can I possibly thank you enough? You saved me. You _are _saving me…"

I was stunned, unable to think of an adequate response. "You got yourself this far," I said, feeling another flush spill over my cheeks. "I didn't really--"

"You did."

I ducked my head, huddling into his shoulder, loving the way his chest expanded against mine. "I don't think you know how strong you are."

Edward's breath was warm on my hair as he spoke. "Maybe one day you can convince me of that. Until then… thank you."

He tilted my head back and kissed me softly, and the sparks were back like wind and fire, consuming my every thought and fiber. And, in that second, contained by sensibility, I realized that I loved him.

The thought was so staggering, incomprehensible. We'd both said it before: it was unthinkable to feel so much in the extremely short period of time that we knew each other. Yet, here it was, bubbling within me, and the sweep of his lips and pads of his fingers branded me further with each kiss, touch. The power of time was unpredictable; minutes and moments of our time spent together, though little, had stacked in such intrinsic ways--unseen, but not unfelt. And this was the result.

_You love him. _The feeling was real, not contrived or mistaken, and as confusing and scary as those words sounded in my head, I loved him, regardless.

I wasn't sure whether or not sleep came to him first, or me. All I remembered was Edward rolling onto his back, hugging me close to his side as I tucked my head to his chest, draping my arm over his shirt. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm, and the rhythm and relief of every single word said between us was enough to lull me to a peaceful oblivion.

-:-

**Sorry for the long A/N, in advance. I don't blame you if you skip it.**

**So, the song that I think best describes B&E's relationship, from Chapter 20 to the moments that led up to the end of this chapter, is "Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol. One of the oldies from my favorite band, and I kept hearing it on TV from those 'Dear John' promos, and realized how much I missed it. I used to play it like it was the only song I owned. PS: Thank you so much to those who send me song recs. I very much appreciate it, and so many of them inspire me. So, thanks! :)**

**Huge, humble thank you to the very sweet, talented Squibstitcher for creating such a lovely colorway inspired by this story for a Haiti Relief Auction over on Ravelry. If any of you are Rav girls and want to see, go to http://www[dot]ravelry[dot]com/discuss/fresh-from-the-cauldron/967717/1-25 ****It's beautiful, and she made me kind of tear up (yes, I'll admit it) because of her thoughtfulness in setting up such a helpful cause, and made me blush and giggle to no end with her emails. Heart you so much, hon!**

**Oh, real quick: Criminal Minds fans--I totally used the word 'unsub.' *cackle***

**Oh! FUCKAWESOME FIC ALERT: I've been waiting for my lazy ass to update just so could finally recommend this, even though it's been rec'd on much better places than my small-fry story, but here it is, nonetheless: "Expectations and Other Moving Pieces" by chrometurtle. It's angsty, and it'll take you for a heart-achingly good ride. I'm hooked. Also, she updates frequently--another plus. :)**

**Thanks for taking the time to read, everyone. You all continue to astonish me to no end with your encouraging, thoughtful reviews and messages. I read every one and usually squeal and turn red, and get all girly-excited, and I've found it harder to keep up with my replies, and I promise to try harder with that. But please know, never does one go unappreciated. Also, I have to say, I've got such patient readers! Thank you for bearing with me through all the heart fail, and hopefully, this one put some of you at peace! Hehe. I might be slow on delivering the next one… I've got 2 Fandom Gives Back one-shots to finish (poor Shamatt0403...you are the most patient woman ever), queenofgrey's bday fic -- which is very different than this fic -- so, for those who want to see some smexin', have a look at "Thirty Days" on my profile. Also, I owe Squibstitcher a o/s, once she gives me a prompt, which I'm so excited about. But 'The Woods' is always on my mind, so I promise I'll write a little everyday. (I always do. It kind of haunts me. Sheesh.)**

**So, yes. Thank you. You all rock my world, boat, socks, and** **all that jazz. Xoxo**


	25. The Difference a Day Makes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Or Edward. Though, apparently, I think I own 'Edvard,' as many of you have dubbed him so. So, yeah, man! Edvard is mine. Awhahaha. **

**So, does anyone remember the Writer's Strike a few years ago? Yeah, so, my brain cells kind of went on a writer's strike for awhile, too. It was bizarre. I'm pretty sure there are tons of you who don't even remember the last chapter. Even though I certainly don't plan on huge gaps of time between updates, I don't blame anyone who decides not to read further until this is complete. Either way, my brain cells and I sincerely apologize for the delay.**

**Also, a few people have asked how old the characters are, so here's a refresher, and some new info, too: Bella is 21. Edward is 24. Angela, Ben, Jessica, & Lauren are 25. Mike is 26. Doris is 65. Mr. Miller is 72. Carlisle is 365+. -- Yes. Vampire. For those who keep asking, see? One **_**has **_**made an appearance! Be patient for the rest! *grins* …Did I miss anyone?**

**Hugs to queenofgrey, who preread tons and calmly told me to keep going, even when I was kicking and screaming. Also, love to my Twitter girls (they know who they are), who kept me laughing and got me through my funk. ****So, yeah, back to Edvard & Bella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh (Rihanna's on in the background. Forgive me.)**

-:-

The wind was musical, blowing against my ear and whispering its nomadic secrets in an organic language that I couldn't understand. It was enough to wake me, and I rolled onto my back, feeling the smooth patch of land underneath. Light was filtering through my eyelashes, and I squeezed my eyes closed, unwilling to meet the dazzling rays of the sun. Still, it seemed to seep under the lids of my eyes, silently requesting me to open them, to see. Stubbornly, I stretched my hand to shield myself from the daylight, and before I could, another hand caught mine.

"Bella."

Gradually, the brightness was eclipsed by a presumable shadow, and I finally gave in to the curiosity of my sun-blocking savior. Edward knelt above me, smiling in amusement, and he was beautiful. His hair rippled in the wind, and the sunlight shone through the strands of brown and bronze, creating a godlike halo around his head. He curled my fingers to his chin, pressing a kiss to my knuckles before pulling my hand.

"You're missing it," he said softly, winningly.

I could hear something other than the wind, like faint crashes of groundswell combined with the hum of music. With his insistent tug on my hand and coaxing eyes, I sat up to see rolling waves far across from us, along a stretch of golden sand.

"The view?" I asked, dragging my fingers through the heated, powdery granules that reminded me of home.

"Hm," he mused, sweeping my hair out of my face and leaning close, his eyes like liquid diamonds, swirled with jade. "That, among other things." His lips were cool as they brushed my cheek, and his hands were eager, traveling around my back and tearing the soft fabric of my dress. The straps fell down my shoulders, rippling in the breeze, and I watched in fascination as Edward pulled his shirt over his head, all muscle and magnificence.

I gasped as he suddenly fell back, pulling me on top of him. We were equivalent in body and motion: skin on skin, panting breath amongst eager lips, impatient hands ridding us of our clothes, braided legs and heavy need.

"This," he murmured, drawing me flush against his chest, our bare skin shining in the sunlight. "Missing--"

"_This_," I finished, lowering my head to capture his sanguine lips, ending our whispery breath, tightening my legs and pressing into him until he moaned against my mouth.

The waves continued to crash in the distance, adding to the symphony of our ecstasy as we thrived on each others' energy, desire, touch, fire… the feel of him was exuberant, and I was feverish, craving the stroke of skin and ardent release that only he could provide.

"Bella…"

He breathed my name with longing, and I grew hot, writhing in delight against the arc of his hips, so close to begging him to take me, have me, own me. My kiss turned desperate against his velvety lips, urging him to go further.

"Please, please…" Our tongues danced sinuously, and the mesh and pressure was desirable, warm… dry… cottony…

I opened my eyes, confused, and blinked against a sudden, scratchy darkness. What the hell was going on? I lifted my head, which was filled with abrupt grogginess, and my back ached.

I was in bed. It had been a dream. And a wet spot was on my pillowcase.

Oh, my _God_. I'd just made out with a pillow.

Sighing heavily, I fell back down on the sheets and closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the last little bit of heaven from my dream a few minutes longer… Suddenly, I remembered where I was: Edward's room. I quickly flipped over to his side of the bed, hoping that he was still asleep and hadn't witnessed me dry-humping the sheets.

The bed was empty.

For a few moments, I froze, narrowing my eyes, wondering if I had imagined everything--had I come back to an empty room, and fantasized our entire early-hour conversation as some sort of defense mechanism?

_Well, that would have been one hell of a hallucination._

Even so, I craned my neck, feeling relieved as I saw Edward's bags, still stacked in the corner, and coat hanging on the armchair where he'd left it. I rolled my eyes at myself and flipped my pillow, hiding my gross drool mark. I was a bit surprised at the intensity of my dream; my body was still tingling with imaginary, lingering sensations--the soft wind, and even the splendorous, illusory echoes of Edward's touches. If I was being honest, my dreams had never been so _vivid _before I met him; it was like he'd lit a sparking fire in my imagination from the first time I'd ever laid eyes on him, and my dreams had been packed with curious enchantment ever since. Honestly, I had no idea what most of it meant, but I didn't mind when the outcomes were so…_frisky_.

As I started wondering where Edward might be, I heard a distant sound, followed by footsteps in the hallway, and I quickly pushed myself up and tried to look innocent, as if I hadn't just been tongue-deep in his pillow.

When Edward opened the door, he looked at me in surprise, smiling. "Oh, hi," he said softly, as if someone was still asleep. "I didn't think you'd be up so early."

I returned his smile and stretched my shoulders. "Hi. Is it early? It feels like it's two in the afternoon."

"It's a little after ten," he replied, shutting the door and setting a key on the night table. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and sighed lightly. His eyes still appeared drowsy, but he looked much better than he had before. "It was close to four-thirty when we went to bed. I figured you would sleep well into the day."

"You're awake," I pointed out, angling my legs toward him. Already, after just five seconds, I wanted to get closer, scoot my way onto his lap, and hold him as long as he allowed. "Why are _you _up so early?"

As if emphasizing that he hadn't slept long enough, he yawned, hiding his face behind his hands for a few moments. When he looked up, he smiled tiredly. "I woke up around nine, and couldn't fall back asleep. I was afraid I'd wake you when I showered, but you were like a rock."

I tried not to laugh. _Should have seen me two minutes ago._ "Yeah, that happens sometimes. I blame Angela and the cross-country training she put me through. I'll be lucky if I can walk, later."

Edward chuckled and stared at his hands, a palm over each knee, and grew quiet, a pensive crinkle of thought across his forehead. "So, you slept okay?" he asked. "I didn't disturb you?"

Something in the tone of his voice told me he wasn't talking about the shower. After all, I hadn't woken up to the sound of the creaky pipes… "Did you have another nightmare?" I asked, my heart sinking at the thought of him lying awake, scared, when I had been out like a light, completely oblivious.

"Oh, no," he said, thankfully sounding honest. "Nothing like that. I was just being a little clingy, that's all." He looked over, shyly meeting my eyes. "I was waking constantly, afraid you weren't there--that I'd imagined everything. So, I kept reaching over for you… to make sure you hadn't disappeared, or anything."

Now that he mentioned it, I could recall a few, brief periods of hazy consciousness when I'd temporarily stirred, for whatever reason. I remembered the intermittent feel of Edward's hand rubbing my arm, and even a foggy recollection of being held, his body against my back.

"That makes me sound like such a child, but--"

"Mm-mm. Stop that," I interrupted, reaching over and covering his mouth. "I have one rule for you, today. You're not allowed to put yourself down. At all. Starting right now."

He watched me carefully, looking comical with my small hand over his lips. I raised my eyebrows in a mock-serious manner. "Is that understood?" I said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

Edward remained quiet, his eyes narrowing to the side, and back to me. After a few seconds, he nodded, and just as I was about to pull my hand back, I felt a sweep of wet against my palm. I squealed, yanking my hand away.

"You _licked _me," I giggled, playfully swiping my hand across his arm.

"Well, you're bossy," he replied with a grin. "Self-defense."

I returned his smile and rested my forehead on his shoulder, pressing my nose into his shirt and breathing deeply. His body wash was a replica of his face cleanser; he smelled the same: manly and sweet, with hints of sandalwood and vanilla. "Sorry," I said. "But if it makes a difference, you're the reason why I slept so well. You made me feel comfortable. Honestly, I'm kind of disappointed that I wasn't awake _with _you, so, if anyone seems clingy, I'm--"

Edward suddenly stretched his hand out, copying my earlier actions and pressing his hand over _my _mouth. "So, guess what? We're going to be sharing that rule, today. Starting now. Is that clear?" he teased, mimicking my words.

My laugh was muffled under his hand, as was my promise of, "Okay, deal," and he took his hand away before I could retaliate with my tongue; after all, I'd already made a move on the pillowcase--that was probably enough excitement for one morning. But then he tapped two fingers to my cheek, a curious smirk crossing his face. "Were you dreaming before I walked in?"

My eyes widened slightly. "Why? Did you hear me?" _Oh, God, please tell me I wasn't making porno noises._

"No, I didn't hear anything," he answered, eyeing me in interest. "But you look a little flushed… and like you have a secret."

I chuckled nervously, putting my hand to my cheek. "Um… yeah, just a dream. Nothing bad, just… interesting."

"What was it about?"

Of _course _he would ask that. I twirled a few stray strands of my hair, glancing sideways, hoping to think of something that wouldn't hint that I'd been humping the sheets. The fireplace seemed to stare back at me, with candle eyes and a wide, open mouth. "Uh… fire."

"Fire?" he echoed, following my gaze to the hearth.

"Ponies," I blurted. _…What?!_

Edward pursed his lips in amusement. "Fire _ponies_?" he repeated, grinning stunningly; it was contagious, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling like an idiot.

"Yup. On a beach." I twisted my hair; at least the beach part was true. "Told you it was interesting."

"So, you're blushing over fire-breathing horses and the ocean?" he asked jokingly.

I cleared my throat, trying to appear casual. "Well, fire's… hot. I mean, not like _sexy_, it--"

_Stop talking. Stop talking now._

"I guess I should get dressed," I said quickly, thinking that a subject change was probably better than going dumbly silent. I pushed the hair that had fallen out of my messy bun away from my face, which was burning furiously. "Can I steal a little more of your toothpaste? I promise I'll go grab my bags in a minute so I don't keep bugging you for your stuff."

"Sure," he said, stifling another yawn, still amused. "But I already brought your bags upstairs."

I slid out of bed and stared at him. "You did? How?"

"I stole your keys. You know, payback." He gave me a faint grin.

I narrowed my eyes to my hoodie, in which my keys had been stashed, and back to him. "So…you took my keys, _opened _my truck, got my bags, and carried them up four flights of stairs so I wouldn't have to?"

He nodded, and I lightheartedly nudged his shoulder. "Man, you really put me in my place," I joked. "I'd kiss you if I didn't have morning breath."

"Well, hurry up and brush your teeth, then," he said favorably, spinning me in the direction of the bathroom.

I was glad to see him in such a good mood, especially after the afflicting amount of earlier stress and tears, not to mention the mental havoc that had played out. I scurried to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, wondering if it would be weird to ask to use his shower. I needed to go downstairs and ask Doris for another room; I was pretty sure the room next door was still available for occupancy, if anything. We still needed our own space, and, after all, spending the night with Edward didn't mean I had a free-pass to settle into his room for the rest of our stay.

_Our _stay. I liked how that sounded.

"I promise I'll get out of your way, soon," I said as I came out of the bathroom, "and you'll probably laugh at me for asking, but do you mind if I take a quick shower? I should probably book myself another room, and I feel a little hookerish going downstairs in the clothes I wore last night…"

Edward chuckled, as I predicted, but he surprised me by standing, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. "I talked to Doris while I was downstairs. She was more than happy to hand me this," he admitted, offering me the small key. "And, I figured you wouldn't object to staying next door…familiarity, and all. Is that all right with you?"

I accepted my old room key, creasing my eyebrows. "Sure," I said, hoping Doris was planning on accepting a payment from me, and wasn't feeling obligated to just hand over a free room because I was _Charlie Swan's _daughter, or something silly. She was a bighearted woman, but she still needed to keep her business afloat, somehow. "Thank you. I'll have to give her a check when I see her."

I started my mental calculator, trying to figure out how much I would be charged to stay at the lodge for another week, or two. Charlie had used his credit card over the phone to reserve my room, and never really told me the final cost; unfortunately, the train ticket I'd purchased had eaten a large chunk of my checking account, and I was probably going to have to dip into my savings. But this _was _worth it, and, if anything, I could always ask Angela if I could be a guinea pig for any medical studies being done at the hospital; once, I'd participated in a sleep study for school, and that had paid nicely. Hell, I could always donate my girly eggs--that would probably take weeks, though; not to mention, I'd have to stick myself with needles. _Ew_.

"I kind of already took care of that, too."

I blinked, distracted from my thoughts as Edward spoke up. "Hmm?" I said, looking up. "Took care of what?"

He cleared his throat, sliding his hands into his back pockets. "I mean, you don't owe Doris anything. For your room."

It took me a few moments to realize what he was saying. _He _had already taken care of it--_payment_. I stood, agape, wondering if he was kidding around. When I realized he was serious, I actually tossed my head back with laughter.

"Then I guess I'll be writing a check to _you_," I declared, still giggling. "Is Masen spelled with an 'e-n' or 'o-n?'"

Edward shook his head, fisting his hair. "N-o," he said. "As in, _no_, you don't have to pay me back."

"Well, I'm going to," I replied, glancing around for my purse; it wasn't in the room, obviously, but I was going to need my checkbook. "I'm serious," I added as I picked up my clothes.

"So am I."

I rounded on my heels, feeling my cheeks rapidly grow warm. "Edward, no," I said, placing my folded clothes on his bed and picking up my jeans. "Just--_no_. I can't let you do that."

"It's not a big deal, really," he said quietly, watching as I pulled on my jeans in rough movements.

"It is." I huffed slightly as I pulled my hair down, brushing my fingers through. "This isn't a few postcards, or dinner, that you're paying for. It's too much--I don't even _know _how much, but I know it's a lot. And it's _your _money to spend on _you_, not me."

I tried not to look into his eyes, because, suddenly, I felt guilty for batting away his generosity like it was offensive. But I _couldn't _just let him pay for me, as though it was something to shrug our shoulders about. No one was holding a gun to my head, demanding cash, and that was probably the _only _case in which I wouldn't feel the urge to argue with him.

Edward reached out and took my fidgeting hands, squeezing them gently to get my full attention. His eyes were like the center of a flame, almost too bright, too beguiling to focus on. "Before you get angry, can I say something?"

"I'm not angry." My voice was firm, but quiet, and I lowered my gaze, pleading with my face to stop its incessant blushing; my blood vessels _really _pissed me off, sometimes. "I'm just…"

"Stubborn?" Edward suggested, actually having the audacity to smirk. I opened my mouth to reply, but he spoke before I could. "I know. It seems like a big handout, and I figured you would put up a fight, but hear me out. If it wasn't for me, you'd be on your way back home right now--"

"That's not--you're breaking the rule--"

"Shh," he said, tapping my lips with the pad of his fingertip. "It's only the truth. Despite what happened--and, trust me, I can't express how glad I am that you _did _stay--you still lost a few hundred dollars by not leaving. I'm aware of how much train tickets cost, you know."

I chewed the inside of my lip defiantly; he could try to talk me into letting him pay for my room, or reimburse me, or whatever he wanted to do, but I wasn't going to let him.

"And, anyway," he continued, "I was the one who left in the first place. We could have had an extra three weeks together--all of the drama could have been avoided if I just--"

"That's irrelevant," I interrupted. "If you hadn't left, you'd be playing the 'What-If' game with yourself, and would have ended up leaving at some point, anyway."

There was a beat, and he chuckled. "Yeah, that's probably true," he admitted. "Still… you stayed for me, and it kills me that I didn't stay for you, before. And I'm not trying to cover up what I did with money, or anything like that, it's just… I want you to know that I appreciate _everything _you've said, and done, and if there's any way I can help make this easier, I want to. It's not even enough--it's a poor exchange, really." He scoffed and shook his head. "You give me _you_, and I pay for your lodging--it sounds insulting, doesn't it?"

"No," I mumbled, reaching out and touching his chest, sliding my hand down to his waist. "You're with me, too. But I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don't. And it's expensive--"

"Bella, all I have is money," he cut in, his voice slightly pleading. "It's in my name, but I didn't earn it. And, it sounds strange, but I hate every bit of it. The only reason I haven't given it away, completely, is because I'm not working."

I digested his words carefully, knowing full-well what he was talking about: inheritance money. Everything he'd 'acquired' from his parents' deaths was sitting in his bank account; thinking about it, I would probably hate that kind of money, too.

"It feels nice to spend it on something--some_one_--that's worth it," Edward continued softly, watching my hands as I went along with stroking his side, his arms. "So, please? Let me?"

I could feel my obstinate shield crumbling and breaking, because when he put it like _that_, how in the hell could I say no? Eventually, I nodded, then leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his back.

"That's really thoughtful of you," I said honestly, biting the corner of my lip--I still wasn't pleased, but if it made _him _happy, then I would learn to live with it. "Thank you."

He hugged me back, and we stood in silence for a few seconds, enjoying the comfort of each others' arms. "You're welcome," he said with a long exhale. "You shouldn't thank me, though. I'm--"

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see, then pulled out of his embrace. "Keep going, rule-breaker," I warned, gathering my clothes once again. "See what happens."

Edward grinned, tousling his hair as his hands traveled through it. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were heading in the self-deprecating direction," I said. "Plus, you said it feels nice to spend money on someone who's worth it. You're worth it, too."

He pressed his lips together, then nodded. "Okay, no more self-loathing. I promise."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'm going to go take a shower. Meet you downstairs?"

"Knock first and wake me, if I'm not up already," he said, flopping back on the bed and grabbing a pillow; thankfully, it wasn't the same one I'd slobbered on. "I just need ten minutes… Maybe twenty. Or, twenty-five."

I smiled as I made my way to the door. "I'll take my time."

The second my hand touched the doorknob, I spun on my heels and walked back to the bedside. "Oh, one more thing," I said, pulling the ponytail holder off of my forearm. I reached for his hand and slid the little band onto his wrist. "I like the idea of you having something of mine. You know, tit for tat," I added, pointing to the shirt I was wearing.

He gave me a small, yet contented smile, and traced the strip of black with his thumb. "I was thinking the same. Thank you."

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before I left, knowing that if I let myself taste his lips again, I wouldn't be able to stop. Moments later, I entered my room and saw that my bags were stacked side by side on the floor, and my keys crowned the top of my purse, on the bed. Beside it was a slip of paper, folded once.

_It was you who I needed, all along. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. Thank you, completely._

_-Edward_

-:-

I leaned my head back into the open air, allowing the sun to beam down on my face, and tried not to sigh heavily into my phone's receiver. It was a bit of a rude awakening to discover that I had four missed calls from Renée and Charlie, and I'd apologetically excused myself from lunch with Edward to return the call. I'd considered lying, fabricating a tale of misplacing my train ticket, or accepting a job in town so I could 'become one and sing Kumbaya' with my hometown roots, but in the end, I figured there was no use in avoiding the truth. After all, I wasn't ashamed of Edward, or my decision to stay, and Charlie interrogated people for a living; if I lied, he would know it before I even finished a sentence.

And, of course, since I told the truth, I was having bucketfuls of parental insecurities poured upon me--by Charlie, anyway. Not surprisingly, he had filled Renée in on Edward's background back on the night he and Edward had spoken on the phone so long ago. Although, considering Renée's motherly heartstrings, I wasn't sorry he had been a blabbermouth.

"Mom, he's been through so much in the past year, without anyone," I explained honestly, swinging my legs over my truck's tailgate. "Could you imagine how I would feel if I didn't have you and Dad? I'd be lost. And I know Charlie's told you all about his _background report_, but that wasn't his fault. He was scared, and sad, and alone, and if_ I _had been in his place, I would have shot someone, too."

Renée hummed quietly, probably lost in wistful thought, as if I were reading her a Danielle Steel novel. "That poor boy," she finally said.

"He needs somebody," I continued quickly. "And, you know, I've been alone for a long time, too. I want to stay for _me_, as well."

I waited, looking up at the window, where Edward was sitting, inside. He met my eyes for a moment and I waved apologetically. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, then turned back to his lunch, I supposed.

"Charlie, I can understand what she means," came Renée's voice through the slight static. "She met someone; let her have fun. And she's twenty-one--we can't do anything about it, anyway."

_Go Renée_.

It was true; neither she, nor Charlie, could force me to trudge back to Florida, but if I wanted to avoid concerned, interrogating phone calls for the next week or two, it would be nice to have their approval.

"Just make sure you check in, baby," Renée said in an optimistic voice. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy you're not coming home yet, but if this is what you want, then I'm glad you have someone with you."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Thanks, Mom," I said gratefully.

"So, uh … what does he look like, anyway? I'll bet he's cute, isn't he? Does he have a nice car?"

I laughed, and I heard Charlie's muffled voice on the other end of the line. Renée sighed lightly, and said, "Your father wants to talk to you, again. Be safe, okay?"

"I will," I answered routinely. "Love you."

"I love you, too," she replied. "And send me a picture of him, will you? I've been wanting to try out my new phone."

I rolled my eyes, agreeing with another giggle, and listened to Renée say a few hushed words before Charlie spoke with a strong exhale. "I don't like this, Bells."

"Dad, if I said I was going to bible-study with the poster boy of Pleasantville, accompanied by bodyguards, you wouldn't like that either," I pointed out calmly. "I know you're worried, but you need to relax. Edward's a _good _person--better than any of those other morons Mom's introduced me to. He's different."

I could picture Charlie anxiously playing with his mustache or wrapping his fingers around Renée's purple phone cord--a habit that we shared. "It's not that I'm trying to talk you out of having a friendship with him…"

I didn't miss how the word '_friendship' _rolled off his tongue with a purpose. Sighing, I looked over at the lodge's windows again; Edward wasn't at the table anymore.

"But, it's a little odd, don't you think?" Charlie continued. "Shacking up with a guy you barely know?"

"Charlie, we're not _shacking up_," I blurted, feeling like he could see my telltale blush through the phone. Of course, I hadn't told either of my parents that I'd spent the night with Edward, but it wasn't like we'd done anything x-rated. "And I guess I have to remind you that I'm old enough to do _that_ with anyone I want, thanks."

He released a grunt of displeasure and quickly said, "Don't remind me, Isabella."

"Well, fine," I said, twisting my fingers around a lock of my hair. "So, will you stop talking like you're going to come here and run him out of the state? Because, even if you did, you couldn't stop me from following him."

Charlie chuckled. "You're making it sound like you're in love with this boy."

I lost my breath for only a hint of a second. "Of course I'm not," I managed to say unwaveringly. "Just, please don't judge him when you don't know him."

Silence followed for a few moments, followed by a sheepish-sounding, "Yeah, I know you're right. I suppose I'm sort of an amateur, here, baby. You never showed that much of an interest in guys in the past, especially after I moved down here. I haven't done this before--knowing my little girl is involved with someone who I can't even meet. I'm new at this."

"I'm not exactly an expert, either, Dad," I admitted, feeling oddly sentimental at his protectiveness. "But I appreciate it. I promise, if there's anything I get worried about, I'll call you."

It wasn't like the almost-manhunt Edward had been on hadn't warranted a phone call, before, but the past was past. At least, I hoped.

After a few more minutes of reassuring 'I'll be fine's' and listening to Charlie's fatherly advice, which mostly consisted of self-defense tips and car care, I hung up. I jumped down from the back of my truck, relieved.

_Parental concerns abated: check. _

I went back inside the lodge, sweeping my eyes over the café and its mostly empty chairs, including the ones where Edward and I had been sitting. As I turned to look toward the stairs, I felt someone grasp my shoulders.

"Sorry," came Edward's voice as I flinched, startled. "I have a bad habit of sneaking up on you, don't I?"

I relaxed, pushing my phone into my pocket as I turned to look at him. "You're light on your toes, that's for sure," I answered with a small smile. "Where were you when I needed a ballet coach?"

He scoffed a quiet laugh and stretched his shoulders, and I realized he'd put on his coat. The lobby was plenty warm, but before I could ask him about it, he posed a question of his own. "So, what did your parents say?"

"Well, my mom misses me, but she's always been about spontaneity … so, she told me to enjoy myself," I said. _And to photograph you_.

"And your dad?" His voice was hesitant, probably concerned that Charlie was going through his personal records again.

"Oh, he's fine." I shrugged my shoulders casually. "You know … being a dad."

He cleared his throat, his left hand fidgeting near the neck of his shirt. I certainly hadn't forgotten the last time he and Charlie talked, and the way Edward's face had drained of color at the end of their conversation; I was sure the memory hadn't disappeared from Edward's thoughts, either.

"Just telling me to check in every few days," I elaborated, trying to set his mind at ease. "Asking me if I have enough mace to last the month, and to make sure I have enough air in my tires."

I knew Edward could sense that Charlie had said a _tad _more than that, but thankfully, he seemed to accept my answer. "My dad used to say the same thing," he commented. "Not about pepper spray, just the tires."

"Oh, so he never gave you a Christmas stocking full of personal security-defense devices?" I asked amicably.

I got a half-smile out of him and he shook his head. "Just a tire iron. It takes care of the car, and can be used as a weapon."

Chuckling, I leaned against the grandfather clock, crossing my ankle over my opposite foot. Then, for a second, I didn't know what to say next; I wasn't sure if talking about my parents, or his parents, was too sensitive of a topic, or one that should be continued. After a few moments, I finally asked, "Does it hurt to talk about him? About both of them?"

He paused, his brows dipping in slight melancholy; the answer was evident on his face, even though he halfheartedly shrugged. "Every so often," he replied. "But, sometimes it hurts worse not to. It's easier … but I don't like forgetting them--how they were before, you know?"

I didn't know; I'd never had to try. "I can imagine."

"I won't bring them up if it makes you uncomfortable," he said quickly.

"It doesn't," I assured him. "I just wanted to make sure I'm not crossing a line if I ask about them."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you want to know?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, sensing his slight insecurity. I knew that diving right into somber conversation probably wasn't the best start to the day, but there was no reason to _make _it depressing; and, maybe he _wanted _to get the ball rolling, somehow. I supposed asking a simple question wouldn't hurt.

"Well, I know you were named after your father," I said, recalling a conversation where he'd mentioned it. "What was your mother's name?"

It wasn't a question he needed to think about, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Elizabeth," he answered, and, to my relief, he smiled. "Or Liz. That's what most people called her."

I returned his smile, remarking, "All E's."

His eyes rolled slightly. "All of our initials were the same. My mom's middle name was Ann, and my dad's was Anthony--the same as mine. I remember confusing the hell out of my dad's new clients when I answered the phone as a kid, confirming that I was 'Mr. Edward A. Masen.' Imagine calling your defense attorney's personal number and hearing a ten-year-old's voice."

"Little Einstein," I laughed, my eyes immediately drawn to the lock of hair that fell into his face, which he routinely tucked back into place. "This might sound strange, but who passed you the hair gene? Or, is that just you?"

"Well, the color is from my mom," he said, habitually fisting his bronze strands again. "The unruliness is just me. I pull on it too much."

As he realized that he was doing just that, he dropped his hand and slid both into his pockets, quietly clearing his throat. Watching him, I tried to imagine a woman with features similar to his, knowing that she must have been beautiful to create someone as attractive as Edward. Then, I found myself wondering if he resembled his father, instead; his height, his build, his stunning eyes… I wondered where it came from.

"What's up?" Edward asked, once again, pulling me out of a daydream.

I ran my hand along the side of the clock, feeling the rough grain of wood underneath my fingertips. Suddenly, the idea of trying to envision his parents felt a bit silly, for some reason--as if I was one of those crazy chicks who demanded their fiancé's family history, so they could speculate about what possible qualities their children would be born with. "Just trying to picture … I don't know. I guess what they looked like isn't my business."

As I mentally fumbled for my next words, Edward pulled his hands out of his pockets, along with his familiar black wallet. I watched silently as he thumbed through the fold, removing something: a photo. "It's a few years old, but it was my mom's favorite."

He held the picture out for me to take, and I held it gingerly by the edges as I gazed at the snapshot. It had been cut down to size, leaving the sides threadbare with white creases and slight fingerprints, evidence of constant removal and observation. But, of course, I didn't notice any of that right away; I was immediately drawn to the people--to Edward, first. He was younger, maybe my age, still sporting the same tousled hair and t-shirt and jeans attire, the familiar, kind eyes, and endearing, asymmetrical smile. Yet, everything about him seemed simpler, brighter. He was sitting next to a woman, his arm linked around her shoulders, and even if I hadn't already known it was his mother, their similarities would have made it remarkably clear. She had long, layered hair, the shade identical to his, and her eyes mirrored the same striking color of rosemary-green; around her neck lay the diamond necklace he had once let me hold. She was lovely, seeming almost equivalently young as Edward, her maturity only defined by the laugh lines set in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Standing above them both, but leaning down closely, was Edward's father, just as handsome as his son. They resembled one another in their physique, both tall and well-built, and also shared an unspoken air of alluring charisma. I stared at Edward Sr.'s hands, one clasping his wife's, the other resting on Edward's shoulder, and felt a warm prickle behind my eyes, warning me of oncoming tears.

I'd seen halfhearted pieces of the happiness that was in this picture reflected in Edward, now. But, comparing him to the man he was a few years ago, seeing the carefree smile that reached his eyes--the one that was so rare, presently--made me ache. The photo was a parallel of a time when his life was untouched, whole. His family was so beautiful and happy, and then had been shattered, stolen from him in the worst way imaginable. I didn't know his parents, and never would, but my heart still broke as if I had.

_Oh, don't cry. Don't._

I could feel Edward's gaze lingering on me, and I looked up, finally, blinking away the threatening spill of tears and swallowing the swelling lump in my throat. There was no hiding my reaction, so I didn't even try; I wanted to tell him that they seemed like such nice people, that I would have loved to have met them, and was so sorry that they were gone. But, I was speechless.

"Geez, Bella," Edward said quietly, and I gazed at him apologetically. "I know my haircut was pretty terrible back then, but I didn't think you'd cry about it."

For a second, I stared at him, then snorted a soft laugh, the tension breaking. "Your hair looks the same," I said, breathing deeply, then realized that I just insulted him. "I don't mean--there was nothing wrong with your--"

But he waved his hand, faintly grinning. "Don't try to take it back. Now I know your true feelings."

I was relieved that he was teasing me. My eyes were still wet, but the urge to cry was slowly abating, and I was able to get myself under control, finally able to speak without whimpering. "They look so happy--so do you. They were beautiful, Edward."

I gave another lingering look at the picture, then handed it back to him. He took it gently, carefully sliding it back into his wallet. "Thank you."

After he'd safely placed his wallet back in his pocket, I fisted the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to hold him because of the loss he'd suffered. He tucked his hands behind my neck, and the feel of his fingers in my hair made me sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Doris animatedly chatting to two silver-haired ladies; all three of them caught my gaze and smiled knowingly. I'd forgotten that Edward and I were still standing in the front of the lobby, and not in the privacy of our rooms.

I cleared my throat, releasing him, only to playfully nudge him. "You were _tan _before," I remarked teasingly. "Well, not fake-orange, spray-on tan. Just…"

"A few steps above albino?" he said with a grin. "Maybe if my car had a sun-roof, I would have gotten some color, lately. I've been hiding away in hotel rooms and libraries for the past year, and mostly coming out at night. Honestly, I haven't really taken time to sit in the sun."

I looked out the window. "Why don't we do that? We could take a walk, or head over to the beach, even. I mean, obviously not to take off our shirts and sunbathe, but it's one place that isn't fully surrounded by trees, at least. "

Edward followed my gaze to the sun-streaked parking lot, rhythmically tapping his fingers against his jeans. "Sure. That would be nice."

"Are you finished eating?" I asked, gesturing to the café. I hadn't missed his amused stares as I'd consumed my food in record time, while he ate at a normal, human pace; slower than that, even. I blamed the fact that I had run a monstrous three miles yesterday, and was just trying to make up for burned energy.

He nodded quickly, taking my hand and pulling me out the door before I could say anything else. I was glad I'd thought to wear a sweatshirt; the sun had stuck around, but it was chillier than the previous day. "Mind if I drive?" he asked. He sounded strange, again, like he was hiding something. "Unless you want to walk?"

"To the beach?" I laughed, wondering if he knew exactly how long that would take. "Unless you want to give me a piggy-back ride, I don't think I could take that kind of long-distance hike again. My muscles are still screaming obscenities at me for yesterday."

"Oh, right," he said, the diminutive tension in his voice instantly melting. "I'll drive us, then. But, I'll warn you, I don't know where we're going."

"I think I can get us there," I said, trying to picture the route Charlie always took when driving us to First Beach. "It's been awhile, but I used to go all the time when I was younger."

Edward and I walked to his car, and he opened my door first. "Okay, but if we end up lost in the midst of greenery, all blame goes to you," he teased. I fought the urge to stick out my tongue as he shut me inside. I relaxed, breathing deeply, and couldn't help smiling oddly at the mix of smells: of Edward and leather, the clash of fresh and stale air floating in the compartment. I felt safe with my back against the familiar seat, once again reminded that he wasn't gone--that he was here, with me.

As we drove, I pointed to the streets I recognized from somewhat-muddled memories of riding in Charlie's cruiser, and felt _mostly _secure that we were going in the right direction. I couldn't help noticing that most of the leaves had lost their deep-rooted green, the edges curling with brown, while the middles were painted with tangerine and red; they had started to sprinkle the sides of the road: a multihued diversity against the moss and grass. It was pretty, but sad to watch them separate from their branches, their life.

_Then leaf subsides to leaf, _I mused. _So Eden sank to grief.*_

"Should I keep going straight?"

"Oh," I said, breaking my visual daydream, noticing the signs for La Push. "Um … yeah. It's pretty much a straight shot from here."

It took a matter of minutes, but we finally found a parking lot by the water, in which only a few cars were parked. The beach was a massive stretch, and since we were pretty close to the end of the shore, the only people I could clearly make out were a shirtless group of boys playing football, and two surfers; all of them must have been _insane_, considering how cold it was. However, Edward and I had the rest of the coast to ourselves. As I walked to the front of the lot, I hunched my shoulders and pulled on my sleeves, pinching them shut from the inside, protecting my hands from the sting of the wind; it was a lot colder by the water. Thank goodness for the sun.

"Oh, my God," came Edward's voice.

I turned to him and stared, my stomach clenching at his tone. "What's wrong?"

"I'm such an idiot," he said, coming over to me and squeezing my arms. "I pulled you outside and didn't even ask if you wanted to grab your coat, first."

Laughing, I gave him a gentle shove. "Geez, don't scare me like that. I'm fine. And, yes, you did pull me out of there. Were we getting stares from the grandma pack?"

"Something like that," he said, rubbing my shoulder. "Here." He started to shrug off his jacket.

"What--don't you _dare_," I said, my voice climbing to an embarrassingly high pitch as I stopped him, firmly gripping the brown fabric. "If you think I'm going to take your coat and leave you with nothing but a shirt, then you don't know me very well."

"It's cold--"

"Exactly. I have a shirt on under this, and the sun's out. And, even though I'm not sure, I _think _I might survive," I joked, tugging the coat's zipper until it reached his chest. He looked so pouty, adorably squinting his eyes and sucking on his bottom lip, until he finally mumbled, "All right, then," and walked back toward the car. He opened the trunk and I heard him rummaging through whatever was in there.

I sighed, halfheartedly smiling. He was always so worried about everyone but himself, handing out kind gestures like candy at Halloween--sweet, and without hesitation. My stomach warmed, as did the rest of my body, as my mind drifted to my earlier revelation: the new feeling of love that seemed to keep growing, faster than I ever expected. Could I really even call it that? I'd never loved a boy, ever. For all I knew, this was infatuation at its finest, combined with meticulous parts of care and comfort.

_That doesn't make sense. Or does it?_

At least I hadn't had the chance to let it slip out, aloud. Those words would probably scare him more than his own nightmares. I'd have to save my girly feelings for another day. Or, another month. Perhaps two years.

_Years? Slow down, there, Ms. White-Picket-Fence._

"Hey."

I turned around to find a navy blue blur torpedoing directly into my face. Gasping, I caught the unknown object, only to be granted with fistfuls of a full, downy quilt. I lowered my hands, and shook my head at Edward's playful smirk. "Nice catch," he said.

"You think of everything, huh?" I smiled at him, tightening my hold on the blanket.

He came to my side, holding what looked like a folded sheet. "I want something to keep you warm, too."

Maybe it was the way his hair was blowing in the wind, like waves of grain in a meadow, or it could have been the sincerity in his eyes, shimmering like facets of sunlight on the ocean, but something made me say, "You already do that."

And, just like that, I turned everything into a fucking _Every Kiss Begins With Kay _moment. _Abort, Cheesy McOxygenChannel_. I ducked my head, clearing my throat and pointing down the beach. "Want to sit over there? Maybe we'll see some … whales."

_You are such an ass._

"Okay," he answered, and I turned to walk away, but he took my hand, stopping me. I looked at him expectantly, feeling his fingers clench mine in a gentle rhythm, as if in deliberation. His lips parted, but he didn't speak. Finally, he sighed, and said, "Lead the way?"

On the beach, the sand was squishy, but thankfully dry, and I realized that Edward brought the sheet for us to sit on. I was glad; I didn't want to get his quilt dirty. "So," I said after we had gotten settled, side by side. "I know Illinois has beaches along the lakes, but have you ever seen the ocean before?"

"Well, when I first got here in September, I went to the one in Port Angeles," he said, leaning his head back, letting the sun hit his face. "Before I met you," he added.

"Oh, right," I replied stupidly, forgetting that he'd been in Washington for weeks before I had arrived.

"And don't you remember when we went on our date?" he said, unzipping his coat a bit. "You screamed like a little girl when you stuck your feet in the water."

I laughed, having forgotten about that, too. "My memory is terrible," I confessed, draping the blueberry-hued blanket over my lap. I gazed at him curiously, biting my lip in amusement. "So, that was a _date_, was it?"

The corners of his mouth curved upward, granting me a glimpse of his perfect teeth. "Well, it fits the definition. And you let me put my arm around you."

"Would you have kissed me goodnight if I hadn't fallen into traffic?" I asked, lightheartedly nudging him when he subtly winced at the memory. "Oh, I'm joking. And besides, if it hadn't been for those drunken idiots, I would have never met Ben, and then he and Angela might have missed their connection. Everything happens for a reason."

He was quiet, subconsciously tapping his fingers along the sheet. Inwardly, I smiled, wondering what artist he was playing in his head.

"I suppose so," he finally answered, then chuckled. "So, no other injuries while I was gone, huh? Maybe I was bad luck, or--"

There he went, breaking our 'Rule of the Day.' "You promised no self-loathing," I muttered under my breath, and I could see a hint of his grin from the corner of my eye. "And no, unless you want to count stubbing the hell out of my toe on a particularly clumsy Thursday."

Edward made a snorting noise, and I inched closer, until I could feel my shoulder bump his arm through the thick layers of fabric between us. "I think you were good luck," he continued, picking up a small stick and drawing circles in the sand. "The second I was away from you, everything went to hell."

I studied his expression thoughtfully, remembering that night: he'd left in tears, apologizing over and over, assuring me that he _had _to leave, as if he didn't have a choice. Obviously, something had changed his mind on the way. "Why did you stop?" I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. "You were so set on finding … that man. What changed your mind?"

Edward let the stick fall, and he crossed his arms over his knees. He always went so quickly from comfortable to cautious. "Everything." His voice was careful, but I could see by his tensely-set jaw that an invisible spike of anguish was present in his throat. I reached over and laced my fingers into his, hoping to encourage him to continue. "Without drawing it out, everything just _changed. _I wasn't as strong as I thought."

A few distant shouts from the boys playing football made us glance up, distracted, and I heard Edward exhale unevenly. He was kneading his forehead when I turned around, again, and said, "I had the opportunity to do what I'd set out to do, and when the time came, I just … couldn't. I couldn't take someone else's life. Not physically, not emotionally. You were right. I was too scared, and didn't have the right, no matter what kind of monster he was."

He was sugarcoating his story; that much was clear by his eyes.

"Of course, it's a good thing I chickened out," he went on, "seeing as he ended up being the wrong guy." Edward shook his head, running his hand over his face. "I can't stop thinking about it. The guy killed his entire family: his parents, his sisters… all because he wanted to be the center of attention. He claimed he was the one responsible for all the murders--even the ones before my parents."

"How do they know he wasn't?" I asked.

"He was too sloppy, and he couldn't explain--" Edward stopped, tiredly rubbing his eyes. "You really don't want the details. Let's just say his story didn't match the motive. He was nothing but a Hannibal Lector wannabe."

We were silent for awhile, watching the waves curl and splash upon the shore, painting over the dry sand. Mirroring the ocean, strange feelings were also tumbling in my stomach, one of sorrow, and another of disturbing unrest. What would have to happen to a person to make them want to slaughter their family, to feel a need to vie for the title of a killer? Psychosis, most likely, or just plain hatred--either one wouldn't surprise me.

"I guess I just don't understand," Edward said, breaking the silence. I supposed our thoughts were in sync.

I glanced up at the sky as a patch of opaque clouds slowly eclipsed the sun. "Neither do I," I breathed, aching to erase whatever horrible memories that were plaguing his mind. I let go of his hand and brushed my fingers through his hair as I said, "I shouldn't have brought you to the beach." He glanced at me, surprise outweighing his fatigue, and I quickly clarified, "I mean, I think I should have sought out the nearest spa facility. You look like you could use one of those aromatherapy massages."

Edward looked at his hands and raised his eyebrows. "I could probably use a manicure, too," he said with mock-seriousness.

I snorted and nudged him with my shoulder. "Yeah. Let's go get facials, while we're at it."

"If it'll get rid of these, then count me in." He pointed to the bruises across his face. "I'm tired of looking like a cage fighter."

"I could always rub melted chocolate on you," I said, then froze.

_Oh my God, just take off your panties and throw them at him, why don't you? _

My face burned royally. "I--I used to do it all the time in college," I uttered, wondering if I should start taking note of how many sexual innuendos I could inadvertently blurt out in a day. I could probably break a Guinness Record. "I'm not a stranger to bruises, and I'm not sure how it works, but if you cover one with chocolate, it reduces the appearance--"

Edward looked so puzzled, yet, entertained, and I wasn't sure whether to laugh or get myself a psych consult. "Maybe ice would just be better," I finished, then proceeded to cover my face with the corners of the blanket.

I could hear him laughing under his breath, and I figured he was probably used to my verbal vomit by now. I sighed softly, still hidden, but eventually, Edward softly called my name, and my little quilt sanctuary was tugged from my hands. The wind cooled my beet-red cheeks, but filtered through my collar, making me shiver. "Hey, I'm not done being embarrassed," I whined, pulling the blanket back with a smile.

"Come be embarrassed over here," he said, gesturing to his lap. I could feel my heartbeat pick up the slightest bit, and I wondered if the warm excitement he always caused my body would fade, or if I would grow accustomed to the simple gestures and brushes of his hands without feeling the brazen heat--without the desire to give him the same reaction, somehow. I hoped not, and really, really doubted it.

I stood up and wrapped the quilt around his shoulders, and slid myself between his knees, in the middle of his arms, and sighed contentedly. "So, did this thing keep you warm while you were away?" I asked, turning sideways and tracing his coat collar. "Or do I have to go raise hell over at Newton's and demand a refund?"

Edward smiled briefly as he enveloped us deeper into the blanket. "No hell-raising necessary. It was the one constant comfort I had." He got a faraway look in his eyes for a fleeting moment, then stared down at me. "One that I never even thanked you for. I realized it as soon as I drove away … I was appalled with myself."

"Don't worry. There was a lot going on that day. I didn't even notice." It was sort of the truth; the words that were spoken between us were fuzzy, but the feeling--the _pain _of that day--was uncomfortably easy to recall. I leaned against his chest, unwilling to remember. "You don't have to thank me, anyway."

"I do," he said, resting his chin atop my head. "You don't understand … I can't even explain it. It was more than just a coat. It was…" He shook his head, exhaling shortly. "Thank you. You have no idea. Just … thank you."

"You're welcome," I mumbled shyly. "Thank you for the CD."

He scoffed a laugh. "I think I should apologize for that, actually. It was so inadequate."

"You were sneaky with getting Mr. Miller in on the action," I replied, smiling halfheartedly.

Edward was silent for a few moments, and though I couldn't see his expression, I could only imagine the shade of regret clouding his eyes. "My head was spinning that day. I didn't know how to deal with anything."

I didn't respond. If I'd been in his position, I wouldn't have even been able to stand up, much less put together a coherent goodbye note.

Suddenly, he pulled back and stared at me. "I'm curious … what do you do?" he asked, his eyes heavy, searching. "I mean, when things go wrong?" He hesitated, taking a short breath, before continuing, "It's not the same thing, but … how did you cope after your step-dad… you know."

"Um…" I paused, biting my lip, trying to think of the best way to put it in plain words. Maybe he was searching for a tactic, of which I didn't have--not a good one, anyway. "I cheat."

"Cheat?" he repeated.

"I go numb," I explained, staring at a fraying string on the quilt that was blowing wildly in the wind. "It's like the way snow falls. Slow, but it starts to stick. It covers me, like a blanket across my back. Only it isn't cold like snow is--it's anesthetizing."

Edward watched me pensively, perhaps imagining it for himself.

"It doesn't last forever, though," I added. "It's not something I can control, and when it wears off, I usually end up right back where I was, before. I have a habit of trying to put things on hold until I know _how _to deal. It's how I ended up here, anyway. I just wanted a break, some time to see if I could … rebuild things."

He slid his thumb under his lip, concentrating on the water before looking at me again. "Did you?"

I narrowed my eyes, taking a short moment to reflect on the weeks I'd spent at the lodge; I didn't have to think about it for long. "Surprisingly, yes," I answered, filling my lungs with the salty air. "I kind of shut out all my friends back home since I couldn't find a way to be happy. I kept everyone at a distance … and here, I let myself open up again. You know, with Angela, Ben, Doris … and Mr. Miller's like the grandfather I never had. It feels good to have friendships again."

Edward nodded, arching his shoulders and pressing his heels into the ground, leaving crescent depths in the gray sand. I wanted to say something else, but I could only watch him; it was staggering how entrancing he was when he was in a state of reflection, so exquisite in mind, body, and manner.

"Aren't we friends?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Y-yes, of course," I stammered, realizing I hadn't finished my thought, before. "I feel closer to you than anyone else. You're the reason I stuck around in the first place. And if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have ever … " _Realized that I could love someone_. "I guess I think of us as more than friends," I finished quickly. Speaking the truth was easier than I'd anticipated, but my face was still inflamed, like a silly little girl with a crush.

"Bella," Edward said, sweeping a piece of rogue hair off of my face. "Why do you always say things--the sweetest words--and then look ashamed of yourself? You aren't saying anything wrong."

"I … I just …" His eyes were so full of warmth and affection, and looking into them made me want to kiss his eyelids. I sighed, distracted, wishing I could articulate my feelings with a simple stare, like he could. "I don't want to say something that puts you off, or scares you away."

"I love what you say."

_L-word, L-word, _my mind chanted stupidly.

"I don't want to scare you either, but…" he said, curving his arm around my shoulder to rub his thumb across my cheek. "I adore you."

I drew in my breath, richly taken in by the breeze and his face. My hand had a mind of its own, reaching up to feel the curve of his neck, instinctively drawing him closer. It was so easy to be this close, to grasp his hair and feel his cheek against my temple.

"Does that scare you?" he breathed. I could feel the heat on my cheeks almost as much as I could feel the incredible warmth of his breath, his mouth only finger-lengths from mine.

I shook my head, unable to find words, and was so consumed by thoughts of kissing him, I almost didn't notice that the distant shouts echoing across the beach were meant for us. Edward narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder, and in the next second, he gripped me to his chest and fell backwards, hard. A loud thump sounded beside us, and I heard Edward exhale soundly. I didn't understand what was going on, but I was on _top _of him, and numerous flashbacks of my earlier dream were flooding through my mind. Now, my face was flushing for a very different reason.

"What just happened?" I asked, my voice muffled against his coat.

He loosened his hold on me. "A football almost hit us."

I picked my head up and turned to see that there was, indeed, a football that had smacked down right beside us. Although, instead of hitting the sand and bouncing off down the beach, this one was half-burrowed in the sand, like a crashed meteor. Edward and I shared a look of awed confusion, and I gently pushed myself off of him and pulled his hand, helping him stand.

"Damn," Edward said, staring at the half-buried ball. "Whoever threw that must be on steroids."

"Hey, sorry! You two all right?" came another shout, and we both turned to stare in the direction from which the ball had come. One of the shirtless guys I'd seen earlier was jogging toward us, and Edward waved, calling that we were fine, while I plucked the ball from the sand.

"Think you can make it, little lady?" the stranger called, holding up his hands.

I chuckled and threw the ball as hard as I could, unpracticed, but was surprised to see that I could still throw a decent spiral. One summer, Charlie had made it his "life's purpose" to teach me how to properly toss a football, so that I could fit in with the boys. I always chalked it up to his secret desire to have me become the first female on a major-league football team. The bare-chested boy caught the ball, but instead of shouting thanks and turning back to his friends, he kept walking toward us.

"Still got that arm, Swan? I'm impressed!" he shouted as he got closer.

I blinked in bewilderment. Who _was _that?

"Do you know him?" Edward asked, glancing at me.

"I … I don't know," I said honestly, astounded by the eight-pack abs that were moving in our direction; the abs also had a face… a slightly familiar one. "Oh, my God, _Jacob?_"

As he walked closer and I took in his boyish face, overlooking the massive muscular features that outlined him as a man, I recognized my old neighbor--my former playmate and partner in mud-pie crime.

"You remember me," Jacob said with a wide smile of pearly-white teeth. "Guess I made an impression all those years ago, huh? I knew you couldn't resist my training wheels."

I laughed in surprise, and felt a weird sense of déjà vu--faint memories of he and I playing on this very beach, years ago. "You're … _huge_. What did Billy feed you?"

"All the leftover fish fry that was supposed to be yours," he said, tossing the football between his hands before tucking it under his arm. He picked me up in a tight, one-armed hug, lifting me with no effort whatsoever. "It's been _years_, Bells! Where the hell have you been?"

"Florida," I answered with another giggle, returning his hug before he set me down. His skin was so warm, it was almost feverish. I supposed playing football was responsible for all the heat. "And I vaguely remember _you _promising to come and visit me, if I'm not mistaken."

"Someone had to stay here and baby-sit all the adults," he said cheerfully, then turned to Edward, who was patiently watching our exchange.

"Oh, God, sorry," I said quickly, motioning my hands like a spastic traffic controller. "Jacob, this is Edward. Edward, Jacob."

"Ah, you're the boyfriend, I got ya," Jacob said lightly, shaking Edward's hand. I paused, giving him an incredulous look, but Jacob shrugged. "Charlie and Billy still talk like schoolgirls. I'm surprised your love life isn't printed in the Forks Forum, yet."

My eyes widened, but I didn't have time to stutter an embarrassed response, as Jacob continued to Edward, "Watch out for this one. From what I can remember, she's as sweet as they come, but she's got a mean right hook."

He winked at me, and I stared at him, confused. "Right hook? I never hit you."

"Oh, yes you did," said Jacob, laughing deeply. "I kissed you when we were younger. You clocked me."

I mentally scrambled in my internal memory box. "I _did?" _

"Yup," he said, looking almost proud. He gave Edward a smirk. "I was seven, she was nine. Bella was the unattainable, older woman, you know?"

Edward smiled at me. "Oh, really?"

I felt my face heat, and Jacob chuckled again. "Man, you really haven't changed a bit," he said, tapping my chin. "Bella-Baby-Blush-a-Lot. Tell me you remember that one."

I wrinkled my nose, laughing, the memories suddenly flooding back to my with fluid clarity. "I remember, now. No wonder I punched you, you little antagonist."

"Always," he said teasingly.

A chorus of shouts sounded in the background, and I saw one of the boys shove another one, seeming on the verge of a fight as someone shouted "Take a walk, man!" Jacob scoffed and shook his head. "Sorry about Paul. He's … just a jackass, really. Can't be told he's wrong, or he lashes out and throws footballs at random couples, apparently."

"It's okay," I answered, unable to help peeking at the group of boys, where one was stalking off, up to the grass. "Edward's got good reflexes."

"So I saw," Jacob said, nodding his approval and knocking Edward's arm with his fist, like they were old friends. "I'll tell Billy to tell Charlie you saved his little girl from an oncoming missile, or something. That'll get you in good with the old man."

Edward chuckled good-naturedly. "That's probably not a bad idea."

I just shook my head, making a mental note to call my father and tell him to stop socializing like a teenage girl. "Nice tattoo, Jake," I remarked, pointing to the circular symbol on his upper arm. "Rub-on?" I teased.

"Ooh, listen to you," he said, grinning. "Nope. Real. I'm a big boy, now, Bells. Engaged and everything."

"Really?" I said, louder than I meant to. "Wow, _really?_ Anyone I know?"

Jacob laughed at my reaction. "Remember Leah Clearwater?"

"Harry's daughter?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yeah, I remember her. She was a little older than me, I think."

"Yup, that's my girl," Jacob said, ruffling his hair. "I just proposed last week."

"Congratulations," Edward offered, and I smiled warmly, thinking of Jacob trading in his childhood Superman cape for a groom's tuxedo.

"Yeah, Jake--that's great," I piped up. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks, guys," he said enthusiastically before another voice called out from behind him, shouting his name. Jacob turned and threw the football, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging as prominently as a body builder's. One of the other boys leapt for the ball, catching it and falling into the waves with a tremendous splash. "Well, I'd better get back before the wolves descend. It was really nice seeing you, Bella." He leaned over and gave me another hug, and I couldn't miss how solid he felt, as if steel resided in place of his muscle tissue. "If you have some time, you two should stop on by the house. I'm sure my old man would get a kick out of seeing how grown up you are, Bells."

"Sure, thanks," I said, leaning into Edward as the wind picked up, and he rubbed my arm.

"Nice to meet you," Edward added, and Jacob shook his hand again.

"You guys take care," he said, taking a few steps toward his friends. "Maybe stick with a safer activity next time--it seems that laying on the beach is risky, today!"

"Yeah, we'll go hiking instead," I replied, reaching for Edward's hand. "Find ourselves a bear to play with."

Edward shook his head, amused, but Jacob stopped in his tracks, his smile faltering. "Hiking, huh?" he repeated, his tone hinted with slight disquiet. "On the trails?"

"Where else?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. "I didn't _actually _mean to go find a wild animal to provoke, Jake."

"Sure, I know," he said, grinning again, though it lacked the luster he was sporting, before. "I just remember you being a little clumsy. I wouldn't want you to tangle yourself in a bunch of thorns, or anything."

"Oh, ha ha," I mocked, rolling my eyes. "I think I'll live."

"Just lookin' out for ya, Bells," he called, starting to walk backward again. "See you guys later. And keep out of the woods, eh?" he added, winking.

His words sounded playful, and I waved good-naturedly, but as I turned back to Edward, I mumbled, "Why does everyone always warn me to stay out of the woods?"

"I think he was kidding," he answered, gently pushing the blowing strands of hair away from my face as I watched Jacob rejoin his friends.

"Did I just imagine that look on his face, or did you see it, too?" I asked, feeling oddly determined. "As soon as I brought up hiking, his whole expression changed."

"No, I saw," Edward said thoughtfully, continuing to play with my hair. "In his defense, you _do _fall down a lot."

I grunted in lieu of a smart remark, knowing he was teasing me. "He's just not the first one to give me a warning like that."

"Who else?"

"Mr. Miller." I pulled at my sweatshirt's sleeves, wanting to sit back down and huddle into the quilt. "I mentioned checking out the trails one day, and he … I don't know, it was strange. He told me that if he were in my shoes, he'd stay out of them at all costs. I thought he was just afraid of bears, or something, but it seems like it's more than that."

"I don't think you're far off the mark, though," said Edward pensively, a faraway look flashing in his eyes for a few moments. "I've seen a scar on the bottom of his neck. It isn't usually visible--he wears his shirts buttoned to the top, with a tie, you know?"

I nodded, thinking of the red tie Mr. Miller was always sporting.

"He covered it up quickly, and I didn't stare, but it looked just like a bite mark," he continued. "Maybe he was bitten by some kind of animal."

"It's possible," I agreed. "Charlie told me that there was a group of hunters that saw a bunch of wolves a few years ago. As far as I know, there haven't been any recent sightings. I mean, no one was hurt, but I guess if I'd been bitten by something in the past, I wouldn't exactly frolic through the forest any time soon."

Edward chuckled. "I have been. Well, I've _jogged_. I haven't frolicked in … awhile."

"What, in the woods?" I said, gesturing to the trees beyond the beach, cracking a smile. "And, I'm sorry, now I'm getting a vision of you dressed in tights, reciting A Midsummer Night's Dream."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I ran track in school; running is the only healthy habit I've kept up. Usually, at some point during the day, I go for a jog if the weather's decent. And, please, get the image of me dressed up like a fairy out of your head. Between crying all night and _that_, my masculinity points just dipped into negative numbers."

"I'm just curious about the last time you've _frolicked_," I teased.

Edward sighed, his lips curling into a peculiar smile. "Eight years old. My friends and I used to play Robin Hood."

We resumed sitting as we had been, with my back against his chest, and spent a considerable amount of time telling simple childhood stories and joking around. But, as another hour passed, we both grew wistfully quiet, lost in our own thoughts. I found myself thinking of Mr. Miller and the woods, wondering if there was some truth to an animal attack of some kind. After hearing about his late wife, I thought that Mr. Miller's tie might have been a special one that she gave him, but maybe he wore it for reasons other than sentiment. Perhaps he was hiding a bad experience.

Eventually, I felt Edward's head grow heavy on my shoulder, and soon after, I felt his head jerk away from mine, followed by his shaky exhale. I tilted my head back, seeing him blink tiredly, having just snapped himself out of impending unconsciousness. "Sleepy?" I asked him with a smile.

He inhaled quickly, a bit startled at the sound of my voice. Instead of speaking, he only nodded, looking sheepish.

"We can leave," I said, aware of the shallow fatigue that was sitting behind my own eyes. "Or you can lay down for awhile. My lap's free, and the blanket's big enough for both of us."

_This inner-hooker of yours must be tamed._

"Would you mind if we went back?" he asked, yawning behind his hand. He looked like a little boy as he pushed stubborn locks of hair out of his eyes, rubbing them wearily.

Of course, I didn't mind, and after we shook the quilt and sheet free of sand, we walked back up to the Volvo. Edward was quiet, his brow and body full of languor, and I could feel his hand tremble as I clutched it between my own. It was strange to see him slip so fast; maybe he didn't get as much sleep as I'd imagined.

"Edward, are you okay?" I took the sheet from his hands as he retrieved his keys, and was slightly alarmed at his pale cheeks and glazed eyes, and the way he gripped the roof of the car to steady himself. He sighed, taking a moment to massage his temples, and I kept my hand on the center of his chest, tightly grasping his coat, afraid he was going to pass out.

"Do you think you could drive?" he finally asked, sounding so exhausted that I didn't even hesitate to say yes--which was saying something, considering I didn't trust myself with other peoples' cars. At least I knew how to handle a stick shift. I slid into the driver's seat, tentatively starting the car's engine as he buckled himself into the passenger's side. "It's not your head, is it?" I asked anxiously, watching him tilt his seat back and rest his head on his arm. I briefly wondered if he'd felt this nervous when I'd had a concussion. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

He barely smiled, but it was more than I thought he'd give. "Bella, I promise. I'm just tired. It's not the first time it's hit me this quickly."

"If you say so," I muttered, wishing I didn't have to change gears. I wanted to hold his hand, or entwine my fingers in his hair, or just do _something _that made me feel adequate--because I knew he would do the same for me. Then, I figured maybe I should just pay attention to the road and not crash his car, because _that _would be more helpful than my _hands _in his _hair_, for Christ's sake.

His car ran so much smoother than my Chevy, I didn't realize I was going almost fifteen miles over the speed limit until I slowed down to turn into the lodge's long driveway. No wonder Edward was always speeding. When I successfully pulled into an empty parking space and turned off the ignition, I mouthed a silent 'Thank you, God,' celebrating the fact that I hadn't hit anything, and looked over at Edward.

He was asleep, completely unaware and perfectly still, except for the small rise and fall of his chest. I contemplated letting him stay there, undisturbed, until he woke on his own; I hated the thought of making him move when he looked so peaceful…

It wasn't until I reached in the backseat for the blue quilt that a thought struck me--simply the fact that he _had _blankets in his car, at all. How many times had he _done _this, already--fallen asleep on these seats because he had nowhere else to go for the night, for whatever reason? And, I couldn't help but remember that every time I'd fallen asleep on a road trip, I'd woken feeling stiff and sore, craving to sell my soul for a chiropractor. I didn't want him to sleep here--not anymore.

"Edward?" I was gentle in shaking him awake, and his unfocused, drowsy stare was both adorable and kind of comical. "We're back."

"Oh … okay," he said, his voice already rough, as if he'd been sleeping for hours instead of minutes. "That was fast."

"I broke the law," I confessed, smirking. "I went fifteen miles over the limit."

He pushed himself up, routinely unbuckling his seatbelt with a tired laugh. "Wow," he said drolly. "Look out for you, you outlaw."

"_And_, I didn't scratch your car," I said as I shut the door, jangling the keys before tossing them to him as he got out. "Do I have your ultimate trust, now that I didn't wreck your baby?"

"My baby?" he echoed, yawning, glancing at the Volvo. "Bella, an Audi R8 would be my _baby_. This is … I don't know, an embarrassing in-law."

I snorted a laugh and wrapped my arm around his back as we walked. "It's too clean and shiny. Maybe a prissy in-law?"

"A pregnant one," he continued, pulling open the front door to the lodge. "It's moody and full of … stuff."

"You're a mess." I laughed, glad there weren't too many people in the lobby to observe us. I was giggling, and he was unsteady; we probably looked drunk.

As we slowly made the trek up The Stairs of Mount Doom, Edward cracked his knuckles and stretched his shoulders, causing little pops of sound. "Maybe I'm rapidly aging," he mused tiredly, bending his fingers back and forth. "I need naps in the middle of the day, and that would explain why everything hurts."

"Everything hurts?" I repeated, concerned.

"I'm just sore," he claimed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's what I get for sleeping in the car and on the floor. You know, that, and not sleeping enough. Sorry I had to go and ruin the day."

"You didn't ruin anything," I said honestly as we reached our floor, glad I'd chosen to wake him in the car. "Today wasn't a bad first day, was it?"

Edward leaned against the wall, knitting his eyebrows tightly. "No. No, not at all. It felt good to talk. Today was really nice."

"Yeah," I said, sweeping my fingertips over the cool railing, watching specks of dust dance in their own sunbeam ballet. "And if you don't sleep through it, we can have tonight, too."

I bit my lip at how cheesy it sounded, but he granted me one of his genuine, beautiful, yet somnolent smiles. "We can have tonight," he agreed, reaching to lightly brush my hand, but he ended up yawning again.

"Are you sure you don't have narcolepsy?" I asked in jest, pulling his keys back out of his hand, searching for a key that matched the lodge's brand. "I haven't seen you this tired…" Since he'd had a full-blown panic attack, weeks ago. But I wasn't going to say that. "Well, in awhile."

Edward shrugged. "It comes and goes."

We took turns in his bathroom, scrubbing the sand out from under our fingernails, and I pulled half of the curtains closed, blocking out the light on the bed, but leaving a couple streams of the sun on the fireplace. He pulled sluggishly at his shoelaces, kicking off his shoes and falling into bed, and I watched him curl up on his side, cheek-deep in a pillow. It was odd, this desperation of wanting to breathe feather-like whispers of comfort in his ear, or mold my body into his curve so that he didn't feel alone as he drifted off. Yet, I also knew that he didn't dream of something terrible _every _time he closed his eyes, and he wasn't a baby that needed to be rocked to sleep, either.

"Are you sure you're all right?" I asked again, feeling unsure as I padded to the side of the bed, stroking his hair. He nodded, once again assuring me that he was fine, and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. His back, moving with slow breath, was warm and soft under my hand, and I pressed my lips to his cheek before whispering, "I'll let you sleep."

He caught my hand as I turned to leave, and I was shocked at how awake he suddenly appeared. I stared at him curiously, waiting for him to speak, watching the clash of spinning anxiety and profound longing swim and swell in his clover eyes, which were silently pleading with me.

"I…" he trailed off, and his fingers loosened around mine, starting to slide away. Before he could let go, I slipped off my own shoes and got into bed, inching close to his side. "I'll stay," I promised, reading _his _mind for once, knowing that he didn't want to ask me one more favor, even one that I would never consider to be such a thing, anyway. I _wanted _to be with him. I pressed myself close, close enough to wrap one arm around his back, and one leg around one of his. "I'll stay."

As if I'd given him magic words, he closed his eyes and breathed a whisper--a response, maybe, or just a sigh. Either way, he was comfortable, and I could wait as long as he needed.

-:-

***Line from "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost.**

**Yeah, I know. This one was long and slow, but that's how I roll, sometimes. It's his first day of bouncing back, and it's like Bella said before: he's not going to be whole in a snap. But he's getting there. And to those who were worried I'd have Bella fall for Jacob… well, there you go. He liked it and he put a ring on it with Leah. Also, I'll address this once more: I am constantly tickled by people asking if I "forgot" about the vampires. Um, no. I have not. Lmao. But look--there are wolves! Just in boy form. S'all good.**

_**Chucklesfamily **_**opened a thread on Twilighted for The Woods (Thanks hon, you're so sweet!), so if you want to check it out and chat/speculate about the story, or how much my update schedule is made of suck, go for it. I'll try to stop by and answer questions if anyone has any! The link is on my profile.**

**My suggestion for good fics: "Goodnight, Noises Everywhere" by Feisty Y. Beden. It's beautiful, it's different, it's the kind of story that makes you crave more, and um, hello? It has a line from **_**Goodnight Moon**_**. ;) Bella & Edward are the last two people on earth…literally. How and why, you ask? READ IT. Also, I just read "Sleepers, Awake" by her, too, and it's the best thing I've ever read on FF. Frankly, I think it's too good for just FF--it should be published. (Js, Feisty, js.) I cried like a little bitch. -- let that be a warning to the crybabies like myself.**

**If you're wondering, I listened to a lot of Mat Kearney's new album, "City of Black & White" while writing. Oh, and the melted chocolate on a bruise thing--I didn't make that up. It's a "home remedy." No lie. And, last but not least, thank you for continuing to read, if you do. :) **


	26. Eggshells & Grand Scales Pt 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, I would have given the vampires fangs. Even retractable ones, so they could hide them. Because, come on--it would be more fun.**

**I realize it's been awhile. My mind keeps taking unwarranted vacations. And Edward was being dramatic. Missed you guys! (And hi, new readers!)**

-:-

Naïvely, I'd had it in my head that things could only go uphill, as though there was a magical, gravitational pull that would keep Edward and I moving in the right direction, on a recovered path where there was room for both of us--as far as Mr. Miller's wisdom went, anyway. After all, Forks was equal ground for us both--an ideal setting to be with each other, away from the distractions and obligations of our lives at home. And, for the time being, I was all in favor of focusing on the present, instead of worrying about what would happen once it came time for our "vacation" to end.

However, I hadn't expected for the air around us to suddenly shift from cozy to uncomfortable, and within a span of a few hours, it felt like we'd taken a couple of steps back. For some reason, ever since Edward had woken from his nap, he'd been distant; he wasn't quite standoffish, but he avoided my eyes at all costs and only spoke when I offered conversation. At first, I thought he might have been in a 'just-woke-up' daze, but when I'd met him in the hallway after changing my clothes, he took one look at me and his expression had bristled. I stared back like a deer in headlights, and though his face had softened instantly, I still couldn't pretend like it hadn't happened.

The dining hall was a distraction, at least, as numerous voices buzzed around us, thankfully filling what would have probably been silence. I couldn't find it in me to care about Lauren's presence, either, as she moved through the tables, filling water glasses and wagging her ass so much, she could have fanned the fireplace with it. It took all the strength I had not to gawk at her, wondering how the hell she had managed to pour herself into those pants--they were so tight, they looked as though they had been painted on. True hooker fashion, I guessed.

After I tore my eyes away from Lauren and her suffocated ass, I reflexively tapped my fingers on the tablecloth, watching Edward stack cucumber and roma tomato slices atop one another, crowned once more with carrot slivers, until he had a fully-formed pillar of vegetables in the center of his salad: a little, colorful tower amongst green waves of romaine.

"Well, congratulations," I said with a timid smile. "What do you call this work of art?"

He looked up in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten that I was sitting across from him. He stared at his plate, then at me, and half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders before he knocked the little column with his fork, causing the veggies to tumble back onto the springy lettuce. He stirred his salad absentmindedly and gazed into the fireplace, turning his attention to the amber flames.

I had absolutely no clue what I'd done wrong. I was clean, so I was pretty sure my scent wasn't offensive, and I wasn't acting any different, or clumsier, than usual. I hadn't even fallen asleep with him earlier, which meant that there was no chance of having weirded him out with any of my inappropriate sleep-talking or confessions of love-babble, either. And, now, it seemed that he'd turned to gestures in place of words. Yet, that was probably because he was annoyed with how many times I'd asked him if he was okay, sounding like a pesky school nurse … or a _mom_.

Another painfully long minute went by, and I just couldn't help myself. "You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" I asked, finally.

Again, he turned back to me quickly, staring at me for a beat. "No," he said, sounding more concerned than surprised. I watched him curiously, waiting to see if he would say more, but he only sighed and lowered his eyes.

It was dizzying to try to discern what was going on in his head, and he wasn't helping me out with an explanation. Plus, I'd been asking him how he was feeling _all _day, and since he repeated, over and over, that he was fine, I didn't want to come across as a persistent, little pest. I picked up my fork and, even though my stomach felt twisted, speared another piece of lobster ravioli. I chewed thoughtfully, not feeling the slightest bit reassured. "It's okay if you are," I mumbled after I swallowed.

"I'm not," he said softly, still unwilling to look at me.

I let my breath out slowly. "What aren't you telling me, then?" Obviously, something was wrong.

"Well, my goodness, don't you two look like a Valentine's Day card!" We both turned to find Doris approaching our table, in her usual, bubbly mood. _Saved by the chatty proprietor bell, Edward_. "You look lovely in red, Isabella."

I glanced down at my shirt, having forgotten that I was wearing that color. "Oh," I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat. "Thanks, Doris."

"Tom was just telling me how much he misses your company in the kitchen, dear," she continued cheerfully. "I'm sure he's grieving an extra pair of hands, as well."

For the first time all evening, I managed a real smile. "Maybe if he lets me in on a few of his secret recipes, I'll help him prep everything tomorrow."

"I'll pass on the message," Doris said with a laugh. "Mr. Masen, have you gone vegetarian on us?"

I don't know how he achieved it so quickly, but Edward actually managed to look credibly at ease--even pleasant; it was convincing enough to make my mouth drop. "Not exactly," he replied, folding his hands over his plate. "I've eaten nothing but take-out for the past few days. I figured I'd try to be healthy, tonight."

I gave him a questioning look, considering he hadn't taken one bite in ten minutes--at all, even. He merely sipped his water, here and there, and if he wasn't playing with his food, he was staring into space.

"Oh, you kids," Doris chuckled, patting his arm. "You have nothing to worry about! I miss the age where I could eat pizza for breakfast and chocolate for dinner, and not wake up fifteen pounds heavier. Of course, I can't say that I behave myself--Tom's French toast is positively sinful. It has horns, I tell you!" She animatedly chatted with us for a minute before declaring, "Well, I'd better keep making my rounds. Are you sure I can't bring you anything else, Mr. Masen?"

"No, thank you," Edward answered politely, brightening Doris's expression even more with one of his gorgeous smiles.

_Well, finally_. Maybe he _had _been in a sleepy funk. He hadn't ordered coffee all day, either, so maybe he was just in caffeine withdrawal.

"Just let one of us know if you change your mind, dear," she replied lightly. "You two have a nice evening!"

"You too," we replied, overlapping each others' words. Doris walked with pep in her step over to the table where Mr. Miller and a blond man were sitting. I couldn't see the man's face, but he seemed young, and I figured it was probably one of Mr. Miller's sons or grandsons. Doris's lively grin grew even bigger as she approached them, placing her hands on both of their shoulders.

"You think Doris has a little crush on Mr. Miller?" I asked, smiling as I turned back to Edward. "She always lights up when--"

The smile slowly melted off my face as I noticed that Edward had slipped right back into his previous forlorn mood, as though the last five minutes had been a pretense. He slowly raised his eyes to mine; all traces of contentment and light he had given to Doris had completely vanished. Maybe I _was _the cause for his current temperament. But what the hell had I _done?_

"Sorry," I whispered, not sure what I was apologizing for, and turned my attention back to my bowl. My appetite was gone, but I kept eating as the minutes passed, needing to fill the tense atmosphere with an activity. Oddly, I felt like crying--those deep, miserable stares of his always tore my emotions into pieces.

"How's your dinner?"

Even though Edward's voice was unmistakable, I still looked on both sides of the table for a third person who could have asked. I gave him a puzzled look, silently wondering if he had just spoken, or if I'd imagined it. I swallowed thickly, and tried not to seem downcast as I said, "Oh … it's good."

He tapped the top of his fork in an inconsistent rhythm, mirroring the mood of our table. "That's good."

I bit the inside of my lip, disappointed that we were regressing back to stranger-like conversation. His eyes were apologetic as he tried again. "What did you order, again?"

I blinked. For a second, I actually forgot. "Oh, um--lobster ravioli."

He simply nodded, then started twirling his fork in the pile of lettuce on his plate. Maybe casual conversation was all he wanted, right now. After all, there were things on his mind that I probably couldn't even imagine. I had to give him time.

_Rough concrete doesn't become smooth in just a few hours, Ms. Fix-It._

Yet, watching him, I couldn't help but think how he'd made it clear that he hadn't been taking good care of himself. We didn't have to talk, but I wanted him to _eat, _already, because his robotic stirring of that damn salad was making me want to steal his fork. Instead of nagging him, I went for another tactic and slid my fork until a ravioli. "Here--want to try one?"

Before he could object, I transferred it to the small saucer where his uneaten roll was sitting. He glanced at his plate, then at me, looking a bit conflicted. "Oh … you don't have to do that. You should eat--"

"I have plenty," I interrupted, gesturing to my half-full bowl. "Really, I won't eat all of these by myself. Try it--it's delicious, I promise."

"I'm sure," he said, uncertainly eyeing the little piece of pasta. "Thank you, it's just that … I'm allergic to seafood."

_Oh. Well, crap._

"Really?" I asked, feeling like an idiot as he nodded. Over our numerous conversations, I hadn't remembered him ever mentioning that. Though, a lot of getting-to-know-you information had been said in weeks past; such a detail probably slipped my mind, or--

_Wait a minute_.

"You ate a crab cake," I countered, giving him a curious stare.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "When?" he asked, sounding cautious.

"A few weeks ago," I said. "Remember? The night Lauren almost smashed a pot of coffee into my head for making that comment about crabs and her snat--" _God almighty, girl, have some tact, for once_. "You know … lady place?"

A gleam of recognition flashed in his eyes and he cracked a momentary smile. "Right," he answered, sighing lightly as his lips fell back into seriousness. "I did, didn't I?"

I reached over to pull his fork out of his grasp and wrapped both of my hands around his. "I know it's easier for you to brush off things that bother you rather then talk about it. But, are you just not hungry, or is it something else?"

Edward's shoulders tautened and raised as he sucked in a deep breath, and a flickering struggle in his eyes emerged and faded quickly, repeatedly. It wasn't the first time he'd played this little game of hide-and-no-speaking with me, and I felt the need to wave my napkin in the air as my white flag of surrender.

_Olly olly oxen free_.

As he exhaled, I realized that I wasn't going to win. Internally, he was pushing whatever was bothering him to a distant corner in his mind, and in the blink of an eye, he was different--brighter--looking as though he'd been absolutely fine all night.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I've been in a weird headspace ever since I woke up."

I stared, baffled by his ability to bounce from one emotion to the next. I'd rather him be in a weird headspace than see him put on his _lawyer face_. He gave my hand a squeeze and then pulled back, picked up his fork, and took a bite of salad.

Confusion wasn't a strong enough word.

"A weird headspace?" I repeated quietly, thinking that I might go cross-eyed.

"It's not you, Bella," he assured me after taking a sip of water. "Sometimes I get stuck in my thoughts. Usually, it takes awhile before I can snap myself out of it."

I narrowed my eyes uncertainly. Rationally, it made sense, and he knew himself better than I did. I supposed I was still on worry-wart overdrive, seeing as how shaky and tired he'd been earlier in the day. "All right," I said, trying to seem unfazed.

We returned to silence, and I pushed my food around inside its bowl, no longer interested in eating. At least Edward finally was … although, as I watched him, his bites were almost cautious, and he chewed slowly, carefully. Even when he swallowed, it seemed too calculated. When he caught me staring at him, I quickly ripped open a packet of sugar that I didn't want and stirred it into my iced tea, avoiding his eyes. I turned my attention to the fireplace for awhile, and when I started to space out from watching the flames lick the stonework, I glanced around the dining hall for something else to observe.

I was not expecting to catch _Dr. Carlisle Cullen_, of all people, to be staring back at me, wearing a somber guise. _He _was the blond man sitting with Mr. Miller, who was also peering in my direction. I gave a small, surprised wave, and they both returned the gesture with minimal smiles that almost seemed forced, barely covering their serious expressions. Whatever they were talking about, it didn't seem to be of amiable nature … so why had they been looking at _me?_

I felt my cheeks flush and quickly looked away, feeling as though I had just interrupted a private moment, and focused on my hands. "Hey, guess who's here?" I whispered to Edward, feeling the need to communicate like we were undercover. When he didn't answer, I glanced up, wondering if he had spotted them, too.

He hadn't.

He'd stopped eating, and his fork was resting statically on the edge of his half-empty plate. Only, he looked strange; he was completely focused on the candle at the edge of the table, not even blinking. He had his fist pressed to his mouth, and his eyes were boring holes at the single, burning wick, as though he was trying not to fly off the handle about something--as if staring at the little candle would keep him from screaming.

What the _fuck _was going on tonight?

"Edward?" I said tentatively, gingerly brushing my fingers against his arm.

My touch broke his concentration, and he exhaled shakily, quietly murmuring, "I'll be back," as he got up from his seat, rushing from the dining hall before I could react. A few other diners watched him go, and, of course, turned to stare questioningly at _me; _one lady, who had been dreamily gazing at Edward since the previous day--never mind the fact that he could have passed for her grandson--gave me the hairy eyeball, as if I had just broken up with him.

I puffed my cheeks and blew out my breath, pulling my napkin off my lap and folding it beside my bowl. At least I was finished eating, and I had a feeling Edward wasn't about to give his salad a second try. Instead of waiting for a server, I reached into my purse and put more than enough money on the table, got up, and walked past several sets of inquisitive eyes to the front entrance.

"What did you do _now_, Bella?" Lauren muttered under her breath as I passed the hostess stand.

If the dinner crowd wasn't around to witness it, I would have shoved her face into the wall. Sadly, going all _Fight Club _didn't seem appropriate in such dim lighting, and instead of giving her the finger, I gave her my best '_fuck off' _face and walked into the hallway.

Once I reached the lobby, I slowed to a stop and looked around the empty sitting area, wondering where Edward had run to, and _why_. I was used to him hightailing it after a nightmare, or from such things as hearing that my _father _was poring over his personal files, but running from the dining room was a first. I suspected his reason for darting out of there wasn't because he had a sudden tickle to play the piano, so I didn't check the entertainment hall, but as I passed the common restrooms, I stopped cold. A muted, yet distinguishable sound of someone, ill, was coming from inside the men's room. All of the pieces suddenly fell into place, and it all made sense: he was _sick_, not brooding.

I felt so stupid. If anything, Edward was an expert at pretending he was fine, but judging from how he'd acted earlier, I should have known better. Nervously biting the inside of my cheek, I moved to one of the sofas and plopped myself down, trying to calm my own stomach into submission. I fumbled with my purse's zipper while I waited, breathing through the rising anxiety that my hands were shaking with.

Edward emerged minutes later, rubbing his eyes and pushing back his disheveled hair. I cleared my throat quietly, and he glanced over, looking surprised to see me.

"I kind of have a habit of following you when you run off like that," I said softly, tapping my toes on the floor.

He narrowed his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "I would do the same for you," he admitted after a moment.

"Come here." I patted the sofa, and he came, slumping next to me with fraught shoulders and tired eyes. "You lied last night," I said quietly, stubbornly staring at him. "You _are _sick."

He appeared confused for a second, then shook his head. "I suppose it would seem like it, wouldn't it?"

"Stop trying to hide it," I said, poorly attempting to sound firm. "I just heard you."

He pulled at his shirt, looking embarrassed. "Okay, I _was_, just now, but it's not what you think."

"What should I think, then?" I chewed my thumbnail to keep from tearing up, thinking of the possible, horrible things he was trying to keep from me. He could have cancer, or lead poisoning, or some weird disease that only gave him weeks to live. Maybe he needed a kidney. Or a new heart. Or a--

"Bella, don't look so serious," he said, cracking a smile. "You're worrying over something that's basically ridiculous."

"Well, how silly of me," I mumbled sarcastically. "I don't see anything ridiculous about this. Why didn't you just tell me that you didn't feel well? I mean, if you felt that bad, I would have understood if you wanted to stay upstairs, or--"

"It's not like that," he cut in, trailing his fingers through his hair. "Staying in my room wouldn't have helped. It's … complicated." There it was, again: that invisible, protective shield of his, slowly taking over. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to have to deal with one more goddamn thing that's wrong with me."

I ignored his sudden, bitter tone and pulled on his hand that, now, was harshly clenching his hair, before he could start pulling out strands. "You're saying that like it's your fault."

"It _is_," he countered. "It's me and my stupid mind. I can't even _eat _without … God." He took a deep breath and leaned his head back on the cushions.

_God? _"You mean, like, without praying, first?" I asked dumbly.

Edward snorted. "No. I mean 'God, I don't want to talk about this.'"

"Well," I said, sandwiching his hand between both of mine, "I'd say if something's bothering you enough to affect your health, then you'd better spill it, or I'm dragging you back in the dining hall to see Dr. Cullen."

He straightened quickly, peering over his shoulder. "Dr. Cullen's in there?" he asked, gesturing down the hallway.

I nodded. "Sitting with Mr. Miller. I was about to tell you, but you ran out of there pretty fast."

"_Shit_," he hissed under his breath, groaning slightly as he dropped his head onto my shoulder. "Just what I need."

I reflexively rubbed his back, eventually settling my hands on the curve of his neck. "Got something against him?" I asked, a bit confused.

"No," Edward mumbled into my shirt.

_Okaaay_. "You're going to have to help me out, here," I all but pleaded, pausing to nestle against his hair, breathing in the fragrant scent of his shampoo.

"He was my doctor two days ago," he explained somewhat reluctantly. "I wasn't able to eat back then, either. And I'm hoping he didn't notice me because I really don't feel like hearing that I should go back to the hospital. You're not the only one who doesn't like to be fussed over."

I pushed his shoulders back, and he slowly lifted his head, meeting my concerned eyes. "You haven't been eating?"

"Oh, I have been," he said, rubbing his neck, stretching. "But nothing chooses to stay down. It's why I've been so burnt out, lately. I'm just out of energy."

He was saying it so casually, as if remarking on the score of a football game. I grappled for the right words, and I suppose seeing my alarmed expression finally pushed him to explain. "Physically, nothing's wrong with me, I promise. But, remember how I said I didn't exactly feel stable, lately?"

I nodded, and he faced forward again, bringing up his foot to rest on his opposite knee. "Well, technically, I've been officially diagnosed. Post-traumatic stress, and all. Not that I didn't already know, but … I don't know, everything came to a head earlier this week, right before I left to come here. I had a certain nightmare that I haven't been able to stop thinking about."

Physically, he was doing a good job at appearing relaxed, but his vacillating eyes told a different story.

"I've never felt so shaken by a dream, before," he continued, playing with his shoelace. "And I wouldn't say I'm _numb _to having bad dreams, but I can usually deal with them--I either panic, or I don't, and then I just go on with everything. But _this _one … it was so _graphic_. It stuck with me. If anything triggers a memory of it, I see it--even when I'm not asleep. And, well, God forbid if I try to eat, because it makes me sick.

"It's why I stopped at the hospital in the first place. I thought it was something to do with a concussion, or some kind of weird virus, but it wasn't. It's just all in my head. I'm fine until I remember."

"What about this morning?" I asked, creasing my brow. "You seemed okay while you were eating, then."

"I was," he admitted. "I was concentrating on you; I wasn't thinking about anything else."

I narrowed my eyes, thinking back to earlier that morning. "But, then I left to call my mom," I said, remembering his disappearance from our table when I was on the phone, and his haste to leave when I asked him if he was finished eating. "So, I'm guessing lunch wasn't a success?"

He didn't answer, and I looked down, feeling guilty.

"Hey," he said, hooking my chin with two fingers, making me face him. "I don't expect you to be around me every single second in case I need a distraction. That's not what I think of you as. Besides, you were right in front of me tonight, and I still couldn't keep it together. It just happens."

"God, Edward. That's … terrible." I traced the fold of stitching on his sleeve, unsure of the right thing to say. "Do you want to talk about it? The dream?"

He shook his head, his mouth set in a stern line before he said, "No. Not ever."

"Ever?" I repeated. "You don't think it might help to--"

"_No_," he said sharply, loudly, and I snatched my hand away in surprise. His chest rose as he inhaled deeply, the muscles tightly set in his jaw. After a few moments, he reached for my hand again, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "I'm sorry. But, no. I just can't."

"Okay," I replied quickly, nodding again. "I understand. I won't push."

His shoulders lowered a bit, and he turned away, looking toward the fireplace. "I told you I'm a wreck."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you and this affinity you have for breaking my rule," I said, gently pressing my cheek against his shoulder blade. "But considering the week you've had, I guess I'll let it slide."

He made a sound that barely passed as amusement, and I leaned closer, slipping my arms around his torso and pulling him to rest against my chest. He felt solid in my arms instead of at ease, and when I kissed behind his ear and tried to coax him to look at me, he softly muttered, "You really don't want my breath in your face right now."

I tried not to frown in disappointment, and gave him one more squeeze before taking my hands away and leaning back in my own space. "So, you haven't actually eaten anything since…?"

"Friday, I guess," he said, shrugging. "I ate crackers at the hospital."

"That's _it?"_ Edward and I both flinched at the high-pitched volume of my voice.

"Shh." He turned and glanced toward the hallway again. "I know, it's not much. But I've been trying. I just need to … get over it."

I fisted my hair, trying to think. "But if it's hurting you--"

"It's just a dream, Bella."

"Yeah, one that's holding you back from--"

"I _know,_" he said, pressing his palms over his eyes, slouching into the sofa. "Trust me, it's making me angry, if anything. I'm tired of feeling like shit instead of strong … and seeing that look in your eyes."

I sighed. "I'm not pitying you, I'm worried. You almost passed out this afternoon, and, while--yes--it makes more sense to me now, nothing's _better_. I know you don't want to go back to the hospital, but maybe you should. You're probably dehydrated."

"I'm not, I've been drinking plenty," he answered, looking like a stubborn teenager as he folded his arms across his chest. "It might not seem logical, but liquids don't bother me--I can keep them down without a problem. And people have been known to live for months without food--I wouldn't exactly call a couple days an emergency."

I couldn't help but snort a little. "Okay, Survivorman. But since you're not trying to endure a desert environment or a wild rainforest…" He narrowed his eyes, casting me an inflexible stare, and I could tell arguing would be no use. "Honestly, Edward, what would you do if it was me? If I started with excuses and said, 'oh it's no big deal,' tell me you wouldn't put me over your shoulder and carry me to the doctor, yourself."

He sat quietly, and I added, "And since you're too heavy for me to lift, all I can threaten you with is calling Angela. Or going to interrupt Dr. Cullen's dinner--and don't think I won't. I can't ignore this, or sit and simply hope that you'll '_get over it_.' I care about you too much."

For a few minutes, we sat in silence, and I tapped my toes on the carpet, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, I sat forward and gave him a once over, unable to look past the weariness in his eyes that, for once, didn't have to do with sleep. How many battles did he expect to fight by himself?

"So, you're keeping down fluids?" I finally asked.

He nodded, lazily gliding his fingers through his hair.

I thought for a moment, then stood up and swung my purse over my shoulder. "Okay, then," I said, reaching for his hand. "I have an idea."

-:-

There was a brief period of time in college when I'd held an after-school job at a Tiny Tots daycare, where I'd built up a tolerance for snotty children and temper tantrums. I even managed to overcome the horrific torture that was changing diapers, and the sporadic drool on my shoulder, or regurgitated, acidic milk those little beings used to spew forth at me in retaliation for forcing them to drink it in the first place. Other than occasionally getting punched in the face by a toddler fist, or tripping over a baby gate and falling into a trash bag, I handled myself fairly well and got a new sense of responsibility … and a serious appreciation for birth control.

However, my past had come back to haunt me in a way that was almost too comical for words. The look on Edward's face reminded me of all the obstinate kids whose parents would pack them tofu and soybean salad, or pureed spinach. They were always the ones who would kick up a fit at the table, throw their unwanted vegetables, and smack the person next to them to show their anger. Right now, I was deliberating the possibility that Edward might throw something, too. Or smack me.

"You're joking, right?" he asked, eyeing what I'd set in front of him with incredulity.

I pressed my lips together tightly, suppressing a laugh, because at that moment, he looked so childish, I couldn't stop picturing him in a bib that read, _'Fuck You! I'm Teething!'_

"It's really not that bad," I said, rolling up my sleeves and smiling. "You're acting like I just offered you something that was christened by Jessica Stanley. And since you just brushed your teeth, I wouldn't give you anything that would require a second round of mouthwash."

He reached out and pinched the cap of the bottle, tilting it on the wooden table, then twisting the top and letting it spin back into place. "Don't speak too soon," he mumbled.

After he'd made a quick trip to his room to freshen up, I'd dragged him through the kitchen and presented him with one of Doris's bottles of Carnation Instant Breakfast. It was the only thing I could think of, in lieu of medical advice, and it was still a bunch of protein and vitamins in liquid-form. If anything, it was a temporary solution, and if all went well, I figured I could sweet-talk him into attempting to eat something small. Though, I hadn't expected such resistance.

"It's just a protein shake," I added, stopping the container from wobbling with my finger.

"It's for the _elderly_, Bella," he hissed under his breath, earning a loud guffaw from Tom, who had walked out of the pantry.

"_Edward_," I said, unable to stop myself from giggling, either. "It's not _just _for seniors."

"You said this was Doris's--"

"Yeah, but look at her," I said, picking up the bottle and forcing it into his hands. "She runs this entire lodge. It's no wonder she needs an extra boost. And shut up, I drank these during my college exam weeks because I was too nervous to eat anything."

He turned the bottle around in his hand, reading the nutrition facts, and when he turned back with uncooperative eyes, I bit my lip. "Would you like me to get a spoon and play 'airplane' with you?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes in agitation, and I almost burst into laughter. "I'm sorry, that's not funny," I added, turning away so he wouldn't see me smile. I plucked a straw out of one of the massive, bulk boxes on the paper goods shelf, and handed it to him. We walked out into the empty café, and I nudged him into a chair. Brushing a strand of hair off his forehead, I said, "It's just … you really don't look so good, and it's scaring me. I feel like it's either this, or taking you to a doctor. So, please?"

He took a few moments of deliberation and finally twisted off the top, poking the straw through the little, silver covering. "Do I get a prize if I finish this?" he asked, the slightest bit of teasing present in his voice.

_Yes. A lap dance_.

"Uh … there are lollipops in the pantry," I replied, feeling a blush creep over my cheeks. I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised to find out that I had an inner _stripper _to go along with my internal sassy-pants.

Edward chuckled humbly, shaking his head and bringing the straw to his lips. I studied him, trying to read between the lines of his faint smile, and it suddenly dawned on me that he might have actually been _flirting._ And I'd offered him candy.

_Bella Swan, Flirtation 101: F+_.

Edward eyed me curiously, looking a bit uncomfortable, and set the bottle on the table. "Bella … you're staring."

"Oh--sorry," I said, turning toward the kitchen door, looking around for something to do. I figured he didn't want me to just sit across from him and survey his every action. "I wasn't watching, I--" I took a short breath, wondering what would happen if I suddenly put my money where my mouth was … or where my thoughts were. _Yeah, he's trying _not _to vomit. Keep it to yourself_. "Just promise me you'll finish that?"

He murmured his compliance, and I turned my attention to organizing the buffet table, a task I was familiar with. I stacked napkins and straightened the fruit baskets, trying to keep busy. After a few minutes passed, and the buffet was pristinely prepared and tidy, I finally looked over at Edward, who was sipping from the straw. Thankfully, he seemed okay and wasn't showing any signs of booking to the bathroom or the outside trashcans.

"So far, so good, grandpa?" I teased.

He swallowed and gave me a smart-ass smile. "I suppose. I'm almost finished. What's next on the geriatric agenda?_"_

Chuckling, I walked behind him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "Are you opposed to massage therapy?" I offered, squeezing gently, denting my thumbs into the solid tension that had gathered at the nape of his neck. His head dropped forward a bit, and he groaned quietly as I firmly slid my hands over his skin.

"I won't complain," he said in a low voice, leaning his arms on the table.

My experience in massage only went as far as kneading bread dough, but Edward, like he promised, didn't protest as my hands melded to the curve of his shoulders and back, rubbing and pressing into all the stress that was clearly weighing him down. The prominence and camber of his muscles were so _solid, _it was hard to not sigh in appreciation along with him. _Oh, my muscle-loving lord…_

Gradually, I felt him relax underneath my touch, and bit by bit, the stiffness in his neck seemed to melt away, and his hair swept against my arm as he reclined his head, exhaling softly as I worked at alleviating any discomfort that he might have felt. I stopped watching my hands, and, instead, was drawn to his closed eyelids, the part of his supple lips, and the slightly lessening, v-shaped crease between his eyebrows, illustrating the air of calm that he was allowing to settle over him.

As I pressed deep into the top of his spine and trailed my hands up into his hair, I could feel the subdued vibration of the encouraging sounds in his throat, and my lungs contracted as he spoke. "Mm, _God_, Bella … that feels amazing."

I let my fingertips linger, biting my lip to keep from telling him that he couldn't say things like that--couldn't breathe such suggestive words in sultry whispers--without causing knots of heat to tie in places I wasn't willing to admit aloud. And then, his own hands reached for mine, sliding up and over my wrists. The touch was different and encouraging--one that made me shiver.

Damn if I didn't want to press pause and ask him if he wanted to take this upstairs.

Beating back my inner greedy-needy-please-me-tease-me girl, I blinked, and unclenched my hands, gently patting his shoulders. "If you finish drinking, I'll keep going," I proposed, gesturing to the protein shake he'd abandoned.

His hands left my skin, and a mere ten seconds later, a slurping sound came from the hollow bottle, and Edward wet his lips, holding up the container for examination. "Happy?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

"Very," I answered. "Want your lollipop, now?" His brows dipped into a slight pout, and I laughed, taking the empty bottle and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. I smoothed the wrinkles I'd put into his shirt and let my hands linger on his chest. "So … that wasn't too terrible, huh?"

"Not too terrible," he echoed, and I could feel his steady, beating heart under my palm. "We are talking about the chalky, chocolate stuff I just drank, correct? Not your expertise as a masseuse?"

I grinned. "You tell me."

"Both," he said wittily, sighing, and it was difficult not to study him, to subtly look for revealing signs of uncertainty in his eyes. Of course, he knew what I was up to. "I'm okay. Really."

I nodded, hoping I wasn't coming across as too maternal. "I believe you. I was just thinking."

"About?"

Naturally, I was worrying he wouldn't _stay _okay, but I figured he needed to hear something upbeat, for now. "Getting you high. You know, marijuana's good for nausea, and makes you crave the contents of a vending machine. Two birds, one stone."

His laugh was just the remedy for my nerves, and I felt warm and comforted as he rubbed his eyes, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Or, I could get you some water, and we can call my dealer in the morning," I joked as he clutched my hands, squeezing.

"Okay." He was striking, gazing at me with eyes that were gracious and grateful, looking like heaven, molded into a man who was holding back hell with one hand. He might not have been able to see the strength in himself, but I could. I leaned close to him, close enough to get a whiff of that manly, aromatic scent that drove me crazy. I wanted to kiss him, badly, but I hesitated, unsure if he would even want that right now.

_Slow is good. Like The Tortoise and the Hare. You're not trying to be all speedy and bunny-hump him, you're taking it easy … like a fucking turtle. Great._

I slipped away from the table and into the kitchen before I said something out loud to embarrass myself. Tom was busy rolling pie crust, whistling Bob Marley, and glanced over at me as I grabbed a bottle of water out of one of the refrigerators.

"Say, Bella?" Tom asked, wiping his hands on his apron. "If you aren't too busy out there, feel like peeling some apples for me? One of my wife's girlfriends ordered a pie, and I told her I'd bring it home with me tonight, and I haven't even started the cinnamon glaze."

"Oh, sure," I said, turning to the sink to wash my hands. "Charlie will be calling you, next. He told me to bring him a pie when I finally come home."

"Sweet potato?"

"The one and only--what else?" I rolled my eyes in jest. "Are you ever going to let me in on your secret? I don't know if I can go another holiday without knowing. I've had _fourteen _failed attempts. There's always '_something missing_,' Charlie tells me."

Tom barked a laugh. "We'll see, Swan Jr. Let's see if you can peel and dice those apples without losing a finger, first?"

I'd worked in the kitchen for three weeks, and during that time, I might have been guilty of going through half a box of bandages. "Touché," said, gathering what I needed and walking back out to the café. Edward turned and scrutinized the armload of kitchen supplies I was balancing, along with a bowl of apples, and the water I had tucked under my chin.

"Don't worry," I told him, setting everything down on a cutting board on an adjacent table and handing him the water bottle. "This isn't some sort of wicked torture for you. Tom just misses my brilliant fruit-peeling ability in the kitchen." I started to set up my space, and then glimpsed the hair tie that was barely visible under Edward's sleeve. "Oh--can I borrow that?" I asked, pointing. "If Tom sees me without my hair back, he'll make me wear a hairnet."

"Oh, really? I think I'd like to see that." He smirked, but handed over the little band, watching as I swept my hair into a quick ponytail. "So, you cook, huh?"

"Hey, some of us don't live off of fast food," I said, securing the band with one last twist and immediately winced at my words. I was only joking, but it wasn't like he kept a pull-out kitchen in the back of his Volvo, next to his laundry, blankets, and collection of classical music--the only constant home he'd kept in the past year. "I didn't mean--"

"I know," he said, waving his hand before I could apologize. "And even if I was back home, I'd probably still be eating frozen pizza. I've never been very good at cooking."

"For me, it was like a survival tactic." I smiled as I began to peel a cold, red apple, the skin smoothly curling over the peeler's blade. "You know how most kids cry to their parents for McDonalds? I think I was the only one who cried for a supermarket."

I skinned a few apples, recounting Renée's exotic taste for things like foie gras, kim chee, and beef tartar, and how my mother had almost a whole photo album dedicated to pictures of me crying and falling asleep at the dinner table, stubbornly refusing to clear my plate.

"And Charlie can't cook his way out of a paper bag, so when I visited him, it was always cereal and milk, or diner food. I pretty sure he was responsible for at least a quarter of their business, here." I put a pile of curly apple skin to the side of the cutting board and began to carefully slice the bare fruit, reflecting. "This brings back memories. Apple pie was one of the first things I learned how to make. Well, sort of."

Edward vigilantly watched me finish chopping the first apple, probably afraid I was going to take off one of my fingernails.

"I'm talking too much, aren't I?" I asked, biting into a thin, crisp slice and humming at the sweet taste on my tongue. Before he could answer, I offered him one of the pieces. I expected him to decline, or scowl at me for even trying so soon, but he surprised me by taking it.

"I told you before … I love hearing what you have to say. And if I'm going to attempt to actually eat this," he said, spinning the apple slice delicately with his fingers, "I certainly don't mind listening."

Hearing the word 'love' flow from his lips for the second time that day made me glad that I had set the knife to the side--I would have definitely sliced open my hand by mistake. And though he hadn't said that he loved _me_, I still wondered how he managed to say such a thing so casually, with absolutely no waver in his voice, as though his heart wasn't pulsing out of control like mine.

"Okay," I answered as nonchalantly as I could, though I couldn't hide a smile, and continued with my story as Edward tentatively nibbled at the sliver of fruit.

When I was younger, Charlie had taken it upon himself to make us Thanksgiving dinner, probably brought on by guilt from feeding me hamburgers all the time. And, God bless the man, even though he'd tried his heart out, the turkey had managed to be overcooked on the outside, yet, remained raw on the inside. The green bean casserole had burned to a congealed mass of green and brown, and the sweet potatoes had boiled too long and fell apart in the pot; when Charlie drained them, they turned into a sticky, starchy mess. Even the innocent can of cranberry sauce, which required no kitchen appliance whatsoever, was accidentally knocked to the floor, splattering burgundy goo all over the floor. I'd been given the task of stirring the gravy, which had survived, but there was nothing to put it over except saltine crackers.

"I remember saying, 'It's okay, Daddy, we can still have dessert,' I told Edward, sliding another apple slice in his direction when I noticed he'd finished the other. I fought a proud smile when he reached for it. "But he was so bummed, he just told me to get my coat and we'd drive to Port Angeles for Chinese food. I almost had a fit--I put a beer in his hand and pushed him out of the kitchen, and told him that I was making us a pie. Me, a seven-year-old," I added, chuckling at the memory.

"It really wasn't this huge, culinary task, though," I said, continuing to chop the apples. "We had a frozen pie shell and canned apple filling. All I had to do was empty the can into the pie plate, put it in the oven, and set the timer. But I sat there, staring through the little glass window to make sure it didn't burn, and took it out on time. I'll never forget Charlie's face when I brought it into the living room with two forks. It felt good to make him happy. He was … I don't know."

Edward looked thoughtful. "Proud of you, I'm sure."

My cheeks grew warm, and I had no idea why I was getting shy about a memory that was a decade and a half old. "Well, I forget to put crust over the top… but yeah, I suppose he was. It was a good night. That's all we had for dinner, too--we ate right out of the pie plate and watched the Lions beat the Bears," I said, recalling how Charlie had laughed and shouted at the football game, and I had joined in with enthusiasm, even though I could make sense of nothing going on in the sport.

"I remember that game," Edward said, also grinning. "My dad was _so _pissed. He almost burned down the house." I laughed, but Edward continued, "No, I'm serious. He and my uncle were drinking scotch, and he had a moment of drunken stupidity--he threw his glass into the fireplace. It was quick, but the flames doubled and shot out of the grate, and since my mom was one of those people who decorated the house for Christmas on Thanksgiving, some of the stockings caught fire. I remember my mom and aunt screaming and filling pots with water, and I ran outside and got the hose."

"Did _you _put out the fire?" I asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah. Luckily, the water hadn't frozen, yet."

"I'll bet you were proud of yourself, huh?" I said, loving the pleasure that was gleaming in his eyes.

"Oh, I thought I was awesome," he admitted, chuckling. "I got my picture in the paper and a plaque from the Chicago Fire Department. To a ten-year-old, I think that's the equivalent of… I don't know, something prestigious."

"Prom King?" I teased.

He scoffed a laugh, averting his eyes. "I suppose."

I studied his enigmatic expression for a few moments as he stole another piece of apple. "Oh my God," I said, a smile spreading across my face. "Were you … did you _actually _win for Prom King?"

He chewed silently, shaking his head, and to my astonishment, his cheeks turned a resplendent shade of _bright pink_. A collision of instant arousal combined with utter amusement exploded inside me as I burst into laughter. "Yes, you _did!"_

Edward cleared his throat, his lips pursed comically, and he rested his cheek on his fist, waiting for me to quit my hysterics.

"Aww," I said, not quite ready to let it go. "Did you get a crown, and everything? Or wear one of those man-sashes?"

"You wore a tutu," he finally said, cracking a smile.

I was past the point of hilarity for the next minute, picturing him in a tux, wearing one of those silly, shiny, fake circlets that always made people look completely flamboyant--no matter how cool they were--and standing next to some busty bombshell of a girl. "Sorry," I apologized, finally catching my breath enough to transfer the diced apples to the waiting dish. "I'm just envisioning it. From local kid hero to Prom King. Any other titles?"

"I was an R.A. and a T.A. in college," he said cleverly, subtly biting his lip. "Does that do anything for you?"

_Ha_. "No, but you doing that to your lip does."

I scooped another handful of apples into the bowl, and one more precious second of obliviousness went by before I realized that I'd spoken aloud. I froze, hands suspended over the cutting board, and the surprised look on Edward's face made my entire head feel reminiscent to his earlier story: scotch in the fireplace. _Kaboom, you whore_.

Voices sounded from the corner--guests filtering out of the dining hall, I assumed--and I quickly gathered the kitchen supplies together, in disbelief that my sassy filter had failed me. "I'm going to … just … give these to Tom," I said, standing so fast, my chair almost toppled backward. I was pretty sure that, on the way to the kitchen, the clip-clop of my footsteps sounded like _nym-pho, nym-pho, nym-pho._

Tom took one look at me and immediately reached for the first aid kit. "Let me see," he said quickly, mistaking my flustered appearance for injury. "Which hand? Is it bad?"

"I--I d-didn't cut myself," I stammered, sliding the apples and utensils on the counter. "I just--oh, God. I can't believe I _said _that. Out loud!" Tom stared at me, baffled, and I fisted my hands in my hair. "Do you have any secret recipes that can wipe someone's memory?"

He laughed and untied his apron. "Want a shot of whiskey, honey?" I couldn't help but smile, and sighed as I poured myself some water, instead. Tom took the bowl of chopped apples and placed them next to the stove. "Thanks, Bella, these look great. And whatever you said, I'm sure it can't be worse than the time I asked Ms. Doris if I could warm up her buns."

I sputtered, dribbling water all over the floor and down my shirt.

"'Course, I meant the sticky buns, but at the time, it just came out and sounded all wrong." He chuckled, and handed me some paper towels. "Was it something along those lines?"

I mopped up my spill, now flushing royally and choking on giggles. "You could say that, if not exactly those lines," I admitted.

Tom hummed in amusement and nodded towards the door. "I'm assuming you said this to Edward… and something tells me he probably doesn't mind."

I'd forgotten that Edward and I were in some kind of soap opera spotlight, and I managed to smile amongst the embarrassment that was written all over, and radiating from, my face. When I finally felt halfway brave enough to go back out to the café, I was thankful to see that there were more than a few people scattered among the tables, sipping tea and coffee. I looked for Edward, and spotted him by the door, talking with a blond man--oh, right. Dr. Cullen. I decided not to interrupt, as that was probably a private conversation.

I weaved my way through the tables and over to Doris's desk to wait. As I stood, I noticed Mr. Miller sitting by the fireplace, his chessboard spread out on his lap. Curiosity seemed to tug my feet, and I walked toward him.

"Hey, Mr. Miller," I said as I approached, feeling surprisingly timid.

He looked up with raised eyebrows, then smiled convivially. "Well, good evening, Ms. Bella. How are you tonight?"

"Fine, thanks. You?"

"Just fine, thank you," he answered, giving no indication that his night had been a serious one; apparently, whatever solemnity that had been going on between him and Dr. Cullen had either been my imagination, or not as negative as I'd thought. And then, as if he'd been reading my mind, he said, "My apologies for looking so grim, earlier. I hope I didn't come across cold."

"Oh, no, not at all," I said, pulling at the hem of my shirt. "I didn't mean to stare. I was surprised to see Dr. Cullen, that's all." I tried my best to sound nonchalant when I asked, "You two know each other?"

"Ah, well, he's an old friend," he replied easily, placing two knights on their designated squares, hesitating before he picked up the next piece. "We go back quite a few years."

I narrowed my eyes to the door, glancing at Dr. Cullen, who, if I remembered correctly, was only ten years older than I. How far back could he and Mr. Miller have been friends? "Oh. You knew him when he was a kid?"

Mr. Miller didn't look at me right away. He adjusted his tie, smoothing his hand over the collar of his shirt before he raised his eyes to mine, and I couldn't help but think of what Edward had told me about the probable bite mark on Mr. Miller's neck. "Well, yes, I suppose so. The years fly by, don't they?" He grinned again, but it was a bit more forced than his first; suddenly, he looked a bit uncomfortable.

Angela had said Dr. Cullen and his family had moved to Washington a few years ago. And as far as I remembered from what he told me, Mr. Miller had lived in Forks since the seventies. The math didn't quite add up… Although, I didn't have all the facts, and it really wasn't any of my business, after all.

I bounced on my toes, eager to take away the seriousness I'd just caused with my prying. "So, uh … can I catch you tomorrow for a game? I want to see if I can checkmate you, already." I always sucked at being charming, but I tried to smile as convincingly as I could manage.

Thankfully, Mr. Miller's eyes softened, and he nodded. "Sure, missy. I'll look forward to it." He paused, and added, "How's Edward?"

"Oh … he's okay," I said. He wasn't exactly peachy, but he was better than he had been, anyway. "He's had a rough couple of weeks."

Mr. Miller sighed gently. "I suppose, sometimes, the past can catch up with all of us." He appeared pensive as he turned to the front of the lobby again, and we both watched as Dr. Cullen shook Edward's hand and disappeared through the front door. I had a nagging feeling that Mr. Miller's words weren't only meant for Edward. "Well, missy, don't let me hold you up. Go make kissy faces at each other while you're young," he teased. "And I need to practice if I'm going to play you tomorrow."

I laughed, a bit embarrassed. "Right. Have a good night. Kissy faces…" I mumbled, and I heard him chortle as I walked away. I walked over to Edward, who gave me a peculiar smile. "What happened to your shirt?" he asked.

I looked down, having forgotten the large splotch of water I'd spit all over myself. "Oh," I said, putting my hands over the wet spot. At least, this time, I was wearing red and not white. "I, uh … spilled some water. You know me." I cleared my throat, still a tad self-conscious about my _other _spillage--the verbal, promiscuous kind. "So, how are you doing? Feeling okay?"

He nodded, and to my relief, he looked like he meant it. "Mm-hmm. Like I said, it's all in my head."

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," I said, taking his hand. "But tell your mind to give you a break, huh?"

Edward exhaled loudly. "Yeah, I'll be sure to stop dipping my toes in the insanity pool." I gave him a mock-glare, and he laughed, pulling the band out of my hair. "Oh, and you're welcome, but I'd like this back now." With that, he looped the hair tie over his hand and onto his wrist, and tiny chills of pleasure rippled over my skin as he smoothed my hair. "Bella, I know you're probably tired of hearing it…" he said, his voice dropping to a lower volume. "And honestly, I need a better way to show my appreciation than by just saying thank you. Words don't cover it, sometimes."

"You don't need to thank me." My voice was close to a whisper, because the way he was gazing at me almost made me forget how to speak. "Really, you don't." I almost wished my bold voice would come back for a moment, just to tell him that if he truly wanted to thank me by using something other than _words_, I certainly wouldn't mind if he pushed me up against a wall and showed me how grateful he was with his _hands_. Or mouth. I wasn't picky, at this point.

Suddenly, loud, girlish cackles sounded from the café, where a bunch of older ladies were sitting. It was so _easy _to slip away from reality and get lost in his beautiful, jade eyes, and forget that we were completely surrounded by people. Edward sighed quietly and raised his eyes to the grandfather clock, and I turned to look, too, seeing that it was a few minutes after nine.

"You're not tired, are you?" Edward asked, studying me. "I'm actually not, for once, but I know you didn't get a lot of sleep. I'll walk you upstairs if you are."

"No, I'm not tired," I said, shaking my head. In truth, if I were to close my eyes for a few minutes, I would undoubtedly fall asleep like a newborn baby. But, if he was going to stay up, then I sure as hell was _not _going to bed. "What do you want to do?"

It was _Forks_, on a Sunday, and there weren't really that many options, after all. Edward rubbed my arms, looking to the side and creasing his brow in thought, and suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Well … would you want a piano lesson? If anything, hiding out in the entertainment hall will get us away from the onlookers."

I peeked over my shoulder, and, sure enough, the group of giggling ladies had their ever-curious eyes on us. "So _cute_," I heard one of them comment, and they all began twittering in agreement. Snorting softly, I turned, hiding my face from their view.

"That sounds good, but I need to go change my shirt," I said, gesturing to my chest. "I'm all wet." _Annnnd, there you go again. _I needed a time-out. "I'll just meet you down here in five minutes?"

"Take your time. I need to warm up," he said, bending and stretching his fingers, and just imagining the things he could do with them made my entire body flush with warmth. As I hurried up the stairs, I couldn't help but think that my shirt wasn't the _only _piece of clothing that needed to be changed.

God help me.

-:-

**Sorry if there were any errors. I didn't have a final pre-reader because I didn't want to bother anyone with this madness. ;)**

**Part 2 is coming soon. As per usual, this was just getting ridiculously long and adding on to this one seemed wrong for the flow. Sigh. So, girls on the Twilighted thread, the picture tease is, clearly, in the next chapter. ;) And hopefully this will convince a handful of you that Edward's not dying of some incurable illness. There's no tragedy label on this story, don't worry! He'll be fine--I just couldn't envision someone who's been through so much having all the emotional weight just magically melt away. (VirginiaMay, score one for you.) Also, I'm always keeping Edward's story in mind--as I write this, I outline his POV, too, and everything written is for a reason. Does any of that make sense? Can I ask you to trust me? Lol.**

**And before I get some emails telling me so, I realize the similarity between this chapter and the Wide Awake epilogue. Months ago, when it was posted and I read it for myself, I sent AngstGoddess003 an email, explaining what I had planned, but wanted her to know so I didn't seem like a middle-schooler who was copying off of her paper. She was very cool, telling me our plots and reasons were completely separate, and to chill. So, she approved me, Wide Awake fans. M'kay? K. So, please don't accuse me and try to give me fic-detention.**

**I'm leaving for Tennessee on Thurs. so I'll try to get the next chapter up before then. If not, plane rides make for excellent writing time! Again, sorry for the wait, loves. I really do appreciate all the reviews and messages, which I have a hard time keeping up with, and I'm sorry for that, too. But nothing goes unappreciated, I promise.**

**So, does anyone else have relatives who have set their house on fire during holidays, or is that just me? Tell me a crazy family story!**


	27. Eggshells & Grand Scales Pt 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own **_**a**_** light. But I guess I can't make a career out of that.**

**So, my foot is totally in my mouth for saying this chapter would be up "soon," and then, almost a whole month went by. I know some of you are completely impatient with me and my slow updates, and I've been told that it seems like Bella's been at the lodge for a year and the plot is forgettable, but I try my best. I can't really force writing - it'll come out shitty, and I don't want to give you guys shit. No one appreciates shit. Except maybe pigs. Perhaps monkeys. But, you know what I mean. ((Also, I'm not gonna lie and pretend like I haven't been doing more reading than writing, lately. I like fic, too. And actual paperbacks (what are those?) *sheepish*))**

**Anyway - I got plagiarized a little while ago, so thank you to voyanisen who alerted me about it, and big hugs to everyone who helped get "Forest Love" taken down. (It's a shame I didn't think of that title first, isn't it?) You girls are awesome, and I really appreciate the support. xoxo**

**Oh, and FF has gone and effed up all my dashes; they've turned into hyphens. Why this is, I'm not sure, but I apologize for it looking like I'm joining words that shouldn't be (in previous chapters, anyway). I tried to type them differently, but in case I missed a few, forgive me?**

-:-

Although I undressed and redressed quickly, I still ended up taking much longer than was necessary. Emotions were rushing through my head like waves, making my head swim and spin, and I took a moment to sit on the edge of the porcelain bathtub to collect my thoughts. It had been a day of contentment and confessions, of trial and minor triumph, and of memories and unanswered questions - and the night still wasn't over, yet. With the way things were going, not much else would surprise me - I was half-expecting Jessica Stanley to come bursting into the lodge on a broom with a pack of flying monkeys to carry me off, next.

And if I was being honest, I was feeling a little out of my league at the moment. Edward had definitely explained that things had gone to hell when he was gone, but I hadn't realized the gravity of the toll it had taken on him. I supposed that I could distract him with my blabbering and push all the protein shakes in the county at him, but at the end of the day - which was now - did he really feel _better_, or was he just placing his problems on a mental shelf, hoping to forget them instead of addressing them? I understood that everything wasn't going to magically melt away after one day, and, most likely, he'd want to deal with one thing at a time… but then, I couldn't help feeling uncertain that my heart and I were enough to help him through it all, alone.

I sat, listening to the echoing sound of my shoes tapping on the tiled floor, and eventually stood once my mind had calmed. It wasn't like answers were going to come to me when I was half-distracted by thoughts of Edward waiting to teach me with those … _hands _of his. I brushed my hair and teeth, and spent another minute scrutinizing my appearance in the mirror. Lightly, I smoothed my shirt, trying to eliminate the slight wrinkles, and closed my eyes, imagining his hands instead of my own. I wondered how gentle, or eager, they might travel if we were caught up in a moment that was both passionate and intimate, or carefree and wild. I wanted to know - if not tonight, then soon. I knew I had to go slow, because that was what he needed - someone who could match his pace, not transform into a high-speed Skank-a-Tron.

_And, now, you're feeling yourself up in a _bathroom_._

Breathing deeply, I managed to get myself under control, and told myself that the lingering blood beneath the apples of my cheeks could pass as a _glow_, and not just my own lusty imagination.

I passed several couples on their way to their rooms as I descended the stairs, politely waving goodnight, and found a select few more lingering around the fireplace. Mr. Miller had disappeared, so I assumed he had gone to bed, seeing as his wake-up calls were at five in the morning. The rest of the guests were standing by the Entertainment Hall's door, chatting quietly and undoubtedly listening to the enchanting music that was coming from inside. I lingered in the background, suddenly shy and uncertain about slipping through the door with everyone standing there, watching.

"I have to say, I wasn't sure I'd ever hear any more music come from that room," came Doris's voice from behind me. I turned around, finding her at her desk, and she gave me a kind smile. "That piano's sat vacant for years, but he's brought some life into it, hasn't he?"

I nodded, thinking back to the day I had first arrived, when the enticing melody I'd overheard was so unknown - just another beautiful detail to the atmosphere of the lodge; certainly, if I'd had any idea of who had been creating it, I would have paid more attention. And the only time I'd actually seen Edward at the piano was in the early morning hours of the day he left, which was probably not a time that was fondly remembered by either of us. Presently, I'd never really _heard _him play.

"I suppose he has," I answered, concentrating, trying to place the soft notes with a familiar title.

"Well," said Doris, coming around from her desk and leading me to the door. "I'd say it was just your luck that the movie player's gone and given up the ghost, or I would probably still have a show running. The room belongs to you two, tonight."

If Doris didn't have a lodge to run, I could have definitely pictured her writing for a matchmaking column in the Forks Forum; that, or having her own reality show. I gave her a knowing look, and she laughed. "And _only _you two," she added, subtly shooing away the bystanders and patting my shoulder before putting her arms around a lingering couple. "Come on, let's leave the young ones alone. It's too chilly in there for us old folk, anyway."

Smiling to myself, I gratefully slipped inside the hall, thinking that I would have to buy Doris a flower basket for her hospitality - not to mention for giving us privacy in a place that was full of prying eyes. The door squeaked a bit as I gently closed it, but Edward wasn't interrupted by the sound. He continued playing his mystery piece - whatever it was, I was unfamiliar with the composer, but the music flowed with such emotion, with deep tones of melancholy, enticement, and beauty in its consonance.

It fit him in his entirety.

I practically tiptoed toward the piano, in fear I might distract him with my footsteps. When I stopped, I observed the slight sway of his back in rhythm with the composition and each motion of his hands. And, God, he was so _skilled_… every movement, every sound was precise and measured, and rang flawlessly, smoothly. I couldn't resist walking closer, longing to see the concentration and sentiment on his face, and when I managed to get a glimpse of him from the side, his eyes were, surprisingly, closed. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable, yet so very deep… He was in an element that I'd never seen him in, before.

Stepping back so I was behind him again, I listened to the melodious, braided notes as they ebbed and flowed and, after awhile, they slowed to a delicate stop, ending the music. Edward straightened his back, and his soft breath seemed to echo in the wide space, the sound as equally lovely as his song. Suddenly, as if he knew that he was being watched, he looked over his shoulder and met my eyes. Thankfully, I hadn't startled him.

"Wow," I said, unable to grasp for better words. "That was … you're _incredible_."

He appeared shy as he ran his hand through his hair, turning on the bench until he was facing me. "Thank you. I'm a little out of practice."

"It certainly didn't sound like it," I said sincerely. "You're too modest. Honestly, I could have been listening to Ludovico Einaudi."

"Let's not go that far," he laughed.

"It was beautiful," I said anyway, walking to the side, leaning my arms on the side of the piano. "I'll be wanting to borrow that CD, next. What were you playing?"

Edward paused, glancing at the keys and looking thoughtful, as though trying to remember. "Well … I'm not sure, actually. I was sort of improvising. I've been trying to tie up this piece for weeks, now… it's not quite right, though. Something's missing."

I stared at him in awe, digesting his words. "Wait … that was _you_? Your work?"

He nodded, seeming amused at my reaction. "I suppose it's my hobby."

Jesus. He composed his _own _music.

"Well, Mr. _Masen_, I didn't know you were such a virtuoso." I felt like Lucy, staring down at Schroeder from the Peanuts gang. He was playing and I was yearning, and nearly drooling. "I feel like I should have paid something to hear you play."

"I'll send you a bill," he joked, shaking his head.

I widened my eyes in mock astonishment. "Oh, you'll actually let me pay for something? Are you _sure _you're feeling all right?"

"Well, Ms. _Swan_, after putting me through the task of drinking sidewalk chalk, I might have to," he said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes with a light smile. "So, are you going to teach me something, or do you want to spend this alone time reliving your Carnation experience?"

He grinned and moved to the side of the bench, gesturing for me to sit down. "Are you at all familiar with playing?"

"A little. It's been a long time," I admitted, taking a seat next to him. "I took lessons when I was younger. Renée was determined to turn me into a genius." I pictured my old teacher with his curled mustache; his name had been Mr. Fonté or Forté, or something with an F. Mostly, I remembered that he spit when he pronounced his S's and P's, and my hands would always end up slightly misted at the end of each lesson: "_Bella, __**p**__lea__**s**__e __**p**__ractice your ba__**s**__e clef on a daily ba__**s**__i__**s**__. __**P**__iano i__**s**__ not __**s**__elf-__**p**__aced by my __**s**__tudent__**s**_."

I ran my fingers along the keys and stopped to pluck out the first nine notes of Beethoven's _Fur Elise_. "That's all I remember," I said, feeling slightly ridiculous. "That, and I've been known to knock out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

"So erudite," he remarked with a teasing laugh. "Do you remember the chords? Scales?"

"Mm, I don't know," I said, hesitating to position my hands on the keys.

"What about finger placement?"

_Ha. _That had a whole different meaning to me, and it certainly didn't involve a piano."Not exactly," I said, fighting a mischievous smile.

"Hmm," he said, moving his right leg behind the bench. "Come sit here, in front."

The invitation of sitting between his legs was a 'cleared for take-off' moment for my hormones, and I quickly obliged, afraid he would see the blood build up in my cheeks. He could probably _feel_ it; my face was like a goddamn radiator. He swung his leg back into place, and I cleared my throat, swallowing a sigh, because when his chest touched my back and his breath hit my neck, all I could think was how perfectly we fit together.

"Now," he said softly, placing his warm hands over mine, "pretend like the back of your hands are glued to my palms. Not too stiff - loose enough, but bonded."

"Okay," I said, nodding, and he looked down at the piano keys over my right shoulder. He pressed down on my fingers one by one in a test, and tinkling notes echoed throughout the room.

"Yes, just like that," he said in his dulcet voice. "Now, this - " He glided our hands across the ivories, creating another sequence of structured notes. " - is a C scale. It's the simplest of its kind. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, a little." I concentrated on making my fingers flow with his, and we crossed our thumbs and fingers over and under as we went forward and back with the keys. And there we sat, for maybe twenty minutes or more as he went over the basics, and I smiled and giggled as I relearned and memorized certain arpeggios and scales. He was amused at my reactions, and if it had been possible, I would have bathed in the sound of his mellifluous laughter from behind my ear.

"Would you like to learn a beginner's piece?" he asked eventually. "Unless you've had enough for one day."

"No, I would," I pressed. Like I really wanted to get up from his hardly-professional-piano-teacher embrace. Somewhere, a thousand Jessica Stanleys were screaming in rage.

"Okay, if you're sure," he answered. I stole a glance at him and he leaned away for a moment, looking thoughtful. After a few seconds, he pressed his chest to my back again and put his hands over the keys. "All right, I know something."

"What's it called?" I asked, placing my fingers lightly on top of his so I could copy his movement.

"A Summer Shower," Edward said. "It's one of the first things my father taught me."

It was faint, but I heard the sadness in his voice at the mention of his dad. This memory wasn't something to laugh about - it was precious, probably one that he'd remembered since he was young, and my heart throbbed for him. Instead of turning to wrap my arms around him and try to lessen his pain, I simply concentrated on the notes he was teaching. He was giving me little pieces of his life, and I wasn't going to take these moments for granted - not when he was so willing to share. And he was so delicate with my hands, softly cradling each one as he placed them over the correct keys, guiding them tenderly as he repeated the song over and over… I really couldn't have loved him more in that moment.

When I finally felt confident enough, I tried playing the piece on my own. After the first few notes, I messed up, of course, and quickly said, "Don't look at my hands, okay? You'll make me nervous."

He chuckled, pressing his lips against the back of my head. "I'm just listening, I promise," he said, slightly muffled from my hair. Then, he grazed his hands over my shoulders, giving me chills, and I had to take a deep breath to control myself.

_Yeah, like that's not distracting, either._

Surprisingly, the second time, I got through it without a mistake (though I played very slowly because of Edward's finger sweeps across my neck) and felt giddily proud of myself. I smiled at my novice-like accomplishment and tilted my head back to see if he was amused, too.

"Was - was that okay?" I asked as I turned on the bench, barely able to form a sentence, because his face was suddenly glowing with an ardent gaze, and I was stunned completely breathless.

Edward nodded, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "It was..." I swallowed as he placed his hands on top of mine, lacing our fingers together. He slowly brought them away from the piano keys and crossed them in front of us, holding me, and I grew warm from head to toe. "Beautiful."

I tried to say 'thank you,' but my voice wouldn't cooperate, nor would my mind. I could only concentrate on the way the sparkles of light from overhead reflected infinitesimally off his eyes, so brilliantly green.

"Bella?" he said with a twinge of inquiry.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him; he was in sheer control of me and he didn't even know it. "Hmm?" I answered quietly, unable to form a whole word.

He took a featherlike breath and then suddenly looked unsure, narrowing his eyes to the floor. I felt his hands loosen around mine and my heart slowed to a rhythmic, pleading beat.

_Please don't, _I thought deeply, hoping he would have one of his clairvoyant moments. _Don't be scared of this._

I closed my eyes, then, because his next move would either be to lean in, or back, and I wasn't sure I could handle seeing him pull away. My mind was changed: going slow would not suffice tonight. I clutched his hands and listened to the gentle mix of our shallow breathing, taking in the scent of him that was perfuming the space between us. And then, even though I couldn't see him move toward me, I _felt_ him. The stimulating energy among us seemed to push deeper into me as he closed the gap, and I could feel the warmth from his breath on my lips.

_Sweet God._

I felt as though I might fracture if I didn't move closer to him. I restrained as hard as I could before lifting my head the slightest bit and my breath nearly diminished as our foreheads touched. Suddenly, his lips were on mine - warm and willing.

Time seemed to slow as his mouth moved over mine in sensual glides, and I savored every moment of motion and the heated tingling that ran like a current into the rest of me, igniting and sparking my insides to life. When I returned the kiss with a bit more enthusiasm, he responded, unlocking his hands from mine and pressing into my spine, pulling me closer. We were a tangle of want and fever, a flurry of passion, and I could not get enough.

Apparently, neither could he. As I gasped against his mouth, he reached for my hips, fluidly lifting me onto his lap. My legs instinctually wrapped around his waist and my hands rushed into his hair, tugging eagerly, and - my _God _- his tongue met mine for the first time, a feisty, sexy introduction.

_Hello. Come in. Stay forever_.

My hands had a mind of their own as they grasped behind his neck, his back, doing whatever they could to explore as much of his brilliantly sculpted body and pull him flush against me. There was no time to breathe, to speak, to think - our skin and lips were on fire, tasting and crushing in concert, and wanted no extinguishing. I was in such an immense, rapturous heaven, and my heart pounded, encouraging us to go faster - deeper. The build of heat traveled from my chest to my middle and further, making me moan and push my lap into his, desperate for friction.

It didn't really hit me until I was wholly aware that my body was pulsing with desire, ready to skyrocket to Jupiter, that I knew if I kept moving and moaning against him, _things _were going to happen. I'd worked myself into a frenzy, but I wasn't so unaware that I was about to climax right in Edward's lap. Besides, we were in a room that, technically, was public, allowing the chance of someone walking in or hearing me and my frisky cries of ecstasy.

Another warm burst of heat shot between my legs and I stiffened, knowing that I had to stop. _You're on a _piano bench_, not a sex swing_.

Edward noticed my change in pace and slowly broke away, and I quickly hid my face in his shoulder, panting and trying to hold onto my willpower, while simultaneously reveling in the fact that we'd finally been able to kiss each other with wild abandon - the kind I'd been waiting for. The new, rushing echo of raindrops splattering the windows sounded like muffled applause, and I had to smile, because even nature seemed to be saying, '_it's about fucking time.'_

"Are you okay?" he asked gently. Even in concern, his voice was golden, and I slowly raised my head, meeting his gleaming green eyes that were suddenly full of uncertainty. For the second time that evening, his cheeks were slightly flushed. _God_, did it make him look stunning.

"Um … I need a moment," I whispered, damning my horny girly parts for interrupting the fun.

He released me instantly, lifting me back to the empty part of the bench and slid almost a foot away from me. His face was full of guilt as he quickly said, "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

I stared in surprise, wondering what on earth he could be thinking to make him _apologize _for that heavenly, breathtaking, passionate occurrence. I was almost certain that I could have defied gravity with glee if I really tried. I watched him rake his hands through his hair, watched his mouth dip into a frown. Was he regretting it?

Panic and embarrassment started to build up in my chest like an almost-full hourglass; I couldn't turn back time and rationalize why he was upset about what we'd just done, or change anything, and I didn't _want _to. Nervously, I tugged at my shirt and tried to figure out why the look on his face was so berating, and, suddenly, a light bulb went off. He was _scolding_ himself - not because of me, but because of what he had just done _with_ me. I'd stopped first, and he thought he'd scared me - that I was having flashbacks of Florida. Of Phil.

"No!" I cried louder than I meant to. I moved towards him, erasing the space between us and grabbing his hands in mine, pulling him to face me again. "No, no - that's not how I meant it," I reassured him. "I … I just -"

_Am a seventh grade boy, completely premature in more ways than one. _My cheeks matched his. How the hell could I explain this?

"I just have to use the bathroom," I lied, my voice low and awkward. "I didn't go upstairs, and it just hit me."

His eyes were meticulous and questioning, and I knew he didn't believe me before he said it. "You're lying."

I shook my head, not because I wasn't, but because he was still inwardly reprimanding himself for something that was completely untrue, and I certainly didn't want him thinking that I would ever associate him - his hands, mouth, heart, _anything _- with a bad memory. "Okay, I am," I said sheepishly, "but if you're thinking that I'm regretting or scared of what just happened, I'm not."

"That was too fast," Edward said anyway, still insecure. "I should have asked-"

Interrupting him, I grabbed his face and kissed him again, eager to show him that was not, and would never be, the case. I knelt on the bench, leaning into him and allowing my body to do the convincing. He _had _to feel the heat, the pulse, the eager breath rushing in my lungs - I couldn't fake it, and as his hands entangled in my hair, I knew that he knew. When I reluctantly pulled back again, my lips felt bruised, throbbing like magnets, pulling and buzzing with attraction for his. "Like hell you have to ask."

A crooked sort of grin came over his face before pressing his forehead against mine, sighing. "Well, that changes things," he said, chuckling under his breath. "I'm glad you're comfortable… but I'm a little confused. You stopped for a reason, right?"

_I did. Because I was half a step away from wanting to put your 'finger placement' on my 'C-scale_.' I pressed my lips together, furrowing my eyebrows in confliction. I wouldn't use those words, exactly, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with," he continued, still under the impression that I was feeling vulnerable. "We _can _go slow, Bella."

Going slow was potential cause for my lower body to spontaneously combust into tiny pieces, seeing as my Libido Alert had reached a high: Level Red & Randy. God help me, it was true.

"Hey, stop looking like you just ran over my puppy," I said, finally, lifting my gaze. He was still confused, and I was going to have to clarify… damn it. I relaxed, sitting back and taking his hands. "You know, Doris said you brought life into the piano, again."

He smiled humbly, shrugging. "She's only saying that because I tuned it for her when I first got here."

I shook my head, biting down on my lip. "No. You've brought life into me, too." Edward's gentle eyes melded into seriousness, so beautiful and profound, making it difficult to concentrate on _words _rather than actions to explain myself. "That sense of being alive and feeling so good … it doesn't happen often. Not to me."

I paused to take a breath, then went on.

"After everything with my stepfather, I didn't _want _to feel. I didn't touch guys, and I wouldn't give them the chance to touch me, either. And you're not the only one who panics. That night, back in Port Angeles? The only reason I fell into the street was because as soon as those men grabbed me, it was like I was right back in my mom's kitchen, reliving everything that happened with Phil. I could smell the liquor, feel the sweat - feel his _hands_…"

Edward inhaled deeply, scooting closer and squeezing my fingers. Our stories were worlds apart, but I knew it was something with which he could empathize.

"That never happened with you - ever. I haven't taken my eyes off of you since we met, and I've never felt so close to anyone … and it might sound silly, but _you_," I said, my voice lowering, "you put me into overdrive. Whenever you touch me, it feels new and electrifying, and grows until I'm just _lost _in you. I stopped because of the intensity … it kind of surprised me."

For some odd reason, between the mix of endearing benevolence and sideways smile on his face, he still looked as though he was at fault for something, like he'd also made me uncomfortable, or something ridiculous. I was going to have to say it.

Blushing furiously, I huffed out, "I was ready to lose it on your lap over a _kiss_, okay?"

I refused to look at him, seeing as I'd finally put it out there for him to hear, and when he starting laughing, I could have died of humiliation. Anyone who ever dated Edward should have been warned to wear panties of steel.

"Yeah, ha ha," I pouted, resisting his tugging on my wrists to pull me closer. "I know, I'm crazy and it probably wasn't even half as exciting for you as it was for me. I get it. You're white wine and I'm white _milk_."

"What - what the hell are you talking about?" Edward managed to say before he broke into another fit of giggles, sounding like a manly version of the ladies in the lobby.

I self-consciously ran my hands through my hair, staring down at our feet. "I don't know, you're smooth and mature, and experienced, and write your own music … and I'm … just plain and boring, and like a stupid kid. Juvenile and ridiculous."

"Firstly," he said, "you forever surprise me with what comes out of your mouth, so you can't fault me for laughing. And second, I actually agree with the ridiculous part. You _are_, because you're wrong." He brushed his lips over my forehead, tilting my chin up before clasping his hands behind my back. "You're fascinating. You're beautiful. And I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you in my arms right now."

_And there goes all your oxygen._

"Also, I'm nowhere near perfect, and I _am _a man, you know," Edward continued. "If you think I barely felt anything, perhaps you forgot about _this_." He took my hand and placed it over his heart, which was beating with gusto. "Trust me, Bella - you drive me crazy, too. I know I've kissed you before … but the first one was much too short, and the second time was … comforting, I suppose. And I loved every minute of it, but _this_…" His hands tightened around my waist and he drew me closer, my leg sliding over his. "This is different. This is…"

He didn't finish - he simply joined his lips with mine and ignited a new fire. We didn't need any more words; we were content with each other, to touch and taste, and breathe, and be. And I knew that if _kissing _felt this amazing, I could only imagine what bodily wonders _other _things might bring.

Eventually, we both decided that the piano bench wasn't the most comfortable seat, and wandered back into the lobby. After sneaking mugs of hot chocolate out of the kitchen, we sat on one of the plush sofas by the fireplace and talked until the burning embers lost their final glow; only then did I notice that we were the only people who hadn't retired to their rooms.

"Ready for bed?" Edward asked with a smile as I yawned sleepily. He pulled me to my feet and over to the bottom of the stairs, adding, "Climb on my back. After all you've done for me, today, giving you a ride up Everest, here, is the least I can do."

"Are you sure you're not letting that protein shake get to your head?" I teased. "Maybe I should carry _you_."

He laughed loudly, causing me to break into an instant, silly grin. "After you advertise how much you trip over your own feet? It may be hard to believe, but I kind of _do _value my own safety," he said with a smirk. "And what could you lift? My leg?"

_You betcha._

"You … underestimate … me," I said through another yawn, causing him to chuckle again. Without anymore hesitation, I put my hands on his shoulders and jumped up, hitching my legs over his hips. "But for now, I'll accept."

"That's what I thought," he said playfully, starting up the stairs as I pressed my cheek to his neck, feeling a little more awake at the sensation of his hands hugging the undersides of my knees.

When Edward set me down at the top of the staircase on the fourth floor, I relished in the feel of my body sliding down his, and made a mental note to never decline a free piggy-back ride from him, ever.

"You look better," I told him, happy to see a contented glow in his eyes.

"I feel better," he admitted sincerely. "A lot better. Thank you." He sighed, ruffling his hair. "I guess all I have to do, now, is conquer breakfast."

"You'll be fine," I encouraged, rubbing his arms, then looked toward his door. In all honesty, I was a little more worried about him _sleeping_, at the moment. I couldn't pretend not to still be curious about the unexplained, awful dream that had been plaguing his mind.

"So … should I meet you tomorrow morning, or …?"

I broke my gaze from the door and glanced up at the sound of his voice, searching his face for an indication of what he wanted. He was asking if we were going to sleep together, or apart.

"I don't want to crowd you, Bella," Edward said quickly. "You've had to deal with me all day."

"You make it sound like you put me through an ordeal," I scolded him, crinkling my nose, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the wrinkles. "Didn't I?" he said softly, and I cupped his face in my hands.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

He was silent for a few moments, looking from his door, to mine, and back to me. "It's not so much what I want … more of what we _should _do."

I nodded, creasing my brow thoughtfully. It wasn't as if we had a curfew or boundaries, really; while sleep had always been innocuous between the two of us, after tonight, I wasn't sure if we'd be able to keep our hands idle. Just imagining the possibility of bare skin and teasing touches, caught between warm, rumpled sheets… God only knew what could happen, then - especially after my almost-O at the piano. I supposed he was thinking along the same lines.

He had paid for my room, after all - a separate room. I knew we needed to give each other space, and I was pretty sure that slipping into co-dependency wasn't high on either of our lists.

"It feels like that first week, doesn't it?" I remarked, interlacing our fingers and pressing our hands to his chest. "Saying goodnight in the hallway, and all."

"Mm," he agreed, nodding. "At least, this time I can kiss you. You have no idea how difficult it was to retain my willpower, before."

I sighed, standing on my toes until my mouth was just under his chin. "Damn it, Edward … what the hell were you waiting for?"

He brushed my hair away from my forehead and his voice was smooth and deep as he hummed into my ear, "I have no idea." The floor seemed to fall out from under my feet as Edward kissed me goodnight, and when we stopped, I was flushed again, already aching for more and missing it. However, as I backed out of his arms and padded to my door, I didn't feel too disappointed.

Because I had a date with the showerhead.

After a wholly exhilarating seventeen minutes in shower heaven, I towel-dried my hair, changed into a fresh nightgown, and fell into bed, exhausted, warm, and satisfied. My bed felt a bit too big without Edward, even with multiple pillows to snuggle up to. I knew I was being silly, as I'd slept alone in this bed night after night for over a month, but it was impossible not to think of him filling in the space beside me. We were lying parallel, with only a wall separating us, and I wondered if he was thinking of me, too.

Suddenly, three, soft knocks sounded from the wall, and I shifted my eyes, stretching over the pillows to listen. They were rhythmic - too precise to be anything accidental or unconscious. Was he dreaming, already?

"Just saying goodnight," came his low, muffled voice from the barrier between us.

A Cheshire-cat-on-crack-worthy smile spread across my face and I laughed, leaning over to return his gesture with an additional three taps that could speak the words I did not have the courage to give. Not yet.

_Goodnight. I love you._

-:-

**queenofgrey and Vicanlp were dolls and did the preread/beta thing. Thank you, loves. **

**I forgot to say that I posted an outtake of this story on my profile, under the story "The Woods Outtakes." How creative of a title, huh? ;) So, go have a look if you're feeling frisky, because it's … rather silly at times. I'll eventually be adding more.**

**As far as composers go, I think you all know by now that I'd sell my soul for tickets to hear Ludovico Einaudi play, but I also have a strong love for Brian Crain - I've listened to him for years. I imagine what Edward played was something similar to Crain's "Wind" or "Wild Swans." I recommend "Song for Sienna," "Summer Rain," "White Horse," "Moonrise," "Crimson Sky," and "Inspiration," for starters. I'm sure you can find them on YouTube since Myspace ate Imeem (which I'm still super pissed about, btw.) Anyway, you won't regret listening, if you're into that kind of thing. He'll give you chills.**

**Also, if you want to hear what "A Summer Shower" sounds like, go to www(dot)fullpitcher(dot)co(dot)uk/easypianosco(dot)htm and click on the title. Sorry, Edward's not included to teach. Don't we all wish.**

**Thanks for reading. Love, and lots of these: xoxoxo**

**P.S. Please don't sue me for slander, Carnation Instant Breakfast reps. I've actually heard that it's one of the better tasting protein shakes. But boys are dramatic, you know? ;)**

**P.P.S I promise this UST will not be drawn out much longer.**


	28. A Different Kind of Fine

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I'm about to own a condo, though, which is exciting! It doesn't contain vampires, but I am allowed to have pets, so maybe I'll get a husky and name it Jake. Or, maybe not.**

**queenofgrey, of course, pre-read/cheerleaded for me because she's the best fic wife and always comes through. Kelly376ff beta'd and is awesome, and I owe her cookies. Thanks, bbs. :)**

**Recap, anyone? Because, you know, it's been since the birth of Christ since I last updated? Anyway, in the previous chapter, Bella had her little piano lesson turned make-out session with Edward, and it was a bit steamy and I kind of feel bad for the piano bench. It endured some frisky lower halves. Basically, Bella's all bent backwards because she loves Edward but, of course, won't tell him, and he… well, you know, he's just concentrating on focusing on the positive and dealing with his PTSD the best he can without therapy (which he should have, but doesn't.) Ring any bells? Maybe? If so, proceed. ;)**

-:-

Another week came and went like the rushing of fall breeze, which gusted through town with its chilly breath and rich, woodsy scents. Amber and yellow leaves continued to fall and covered the streets respectively - an intermittent reminder that winter was approaching - but inside, things remained warm and surprisingly stable. Edward and I had developed a comfortable routine - something that was good for him, seeing as he'd been living in a state of near constant strain. We still slept separately, but when we were awake, we were together, finding small things to occupy our time; if we weren't eating or walking through town, or listening to music in his car, we were reading in bed. Sure, it sounded old couple-ish, but the presence of books and blankets always led to on-top-of-the-covers make-out sessions, and touching, teasing… but never more. We always held back from taking a step further - from taking off our clothes, primarily - and our avid breath would slow and our skin would cool, and things would just go back to normal - because _normal _was what he needed. It helped, for the most part. Things weren't perfect, but they were promising, and we continued to slip deeper into each others' hearts and minds, finding an ideal fit.

We _were _going slow, but I couldn't complain. I still had the liberty to touch him without hesitation, and I loved being able to wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle into his shoulder, or pull him into a kiss, simply because I wanted to. I had him, and he had me, and that was all I could ask for.

"I'm boring you to death, aren't I?"

At the sound of Edward's voice, I shifted my position and stretched my head away from the warmth of his chest. His curious eyes met mine and I gave him a pointed stare. Presently, we were lying outside on the back hill, having effortless, intimate time with each other, bound by each others limbs and completely tangled together - a knot I never wanted to undo. Our cuddling was wanted, and sort of necessary, as the temperature had dropped to the high forties, and we had to warm up, somehow. Now, wrapped in his coat _and _his arms, with my knee resting on his thigh and my stomach pressed against his, I was hardly _bored_.

"If I was going to die right now, it wouldn't be from boredom," I told him, leaving out the part where the cause would be bliss-by-bumping-lower-bodies.

"So, my breath, then?" he asked, kissing underneath my chin.

I rolled my eyes, then closed them at the pleasurable sensation he was providing, only to pull away and clasp his face, plumping his cheeks. "Your breath is fine. And, you know, the less sleep you get, the more self-deprecating you are," I said. "Take another nap."

He'd just woken up after twenty-minutes of using me as his pillow. Instead of agreeing, he slid his hands up my sleeves, squeezing my arms and pulling me back down beside him. "It's too cold - and you stole my coat, so…"

My mouth fell open, ready to shoot out multiple protests, but he silenced me with his lips before I had a chance to start. He was the one who had zipped me into the thing, seeing as how I refused to wear my bulky, outdated parka I'd brought along in my luggage. And since I'd finally thrown away my good hoodie - the one on which Jessica had put her slimy hands - I was left wearing sweaters and sweatshirts to shield me from the cold. It hadn't been good enough for Edward, though, because now _he _was the one sans jacket; I'd put up a good fight, but he won in the end, after finding out that I was ticklish on my lower hips.

"I'm not tired," he assured after our mouths parted, and moved to rest his head on the cushy grass. It wasn't true, as I could see it in his eyes, in the slight shadows underneath his lashes. "I've had enough sleep."

Honestly, I was surprised that he had gone almost a full week without any kind of nightmare or restlessness during the night - except for early this morning, when I'd woken to the sound of _him _waking through the wall; and not the gentle yawning and stretching kind, either - the agonized, sobbing sort. He'd rebuffed my questions, merely allowing me to climb into his bed and sit with him. For whatever reason, he wouldn't let me touch, hug, or get close to him at all, really - not until he had settled down a bit on his own. He sat, shaking against the headboard and clutching his blankets for all they were worth; only after a few minutes were up, did he slowly reach for my hand. I'd knelt on the pillows, brushing tears off his cheekbones, and when I finally coaxed him to look at me, he'd fallen into my arms and broken down all over again, whispering strained apologies and breaking my heart.

I ran my hand over his shirt, watching him yawn - proving his assurances false - and picked a stray piece of grass off his shoulder. "Still don't want to talk about it?"

Edward shook his head and toyed with a tuft of my hair to distract me - he knew I loved when he did that. "There's nothing to say. It passed. Hey - stop biting my favorite thing to kiss."

I untucked my bottom lip from the edges of my teeth with a faint grumble. "I get it," I said. "You had a good week. You don't want to dive into dark and dreary conversation, right?" He studied me with eyes that were searing and profound, like fire in a well. "But I'm scared of saying something I shouldn't, something that could trigger a memory you don't want to remember."

"You won't."

I rolled onto my stomach and propped myself up with my forearms. "Is this one more clairvoyant assurance, _John Edward_?" I teased, and he cracked a smile. Another thing that had become overly clear in our time together was that he was good as any psychic - always in tune to what I was thinking, and scarily enough, sometimes before I even thought it. "Maybe if you tell me, you'll feel better."

I frowned as I watched his expression fall. "You'll wish you never asked," he replied, turning his eyes to the overcast sky, and his eyes seemed to cloud in turn.

"Even so, you shouldn't feel forced into keeping something to yourself," I tried again. "I'm asking because I don't want it to eat away at you."

He shook his head again. "If we talk about my nightmares, then they'll become yours, trust me. And I won't do that to you."

"But … if you don't - " I sighed, knowing it was no use. If I'd learned anything over the past week, Edward wasn't one to be pushed. I leaned over and kissed his cheek with a quiet, "Never mind," and began to braid a few blades of grass. I could feel him watching me, so I stuck out my tongue without looking at him, and relaxed when I heard him chuckle softly.

About a minute passed before he abruptly said, "Okay, fine," and pushed himself up to my level, still lying on his side. He took a deep breath and did his sexy swooping-back-the-hair move, the kind that would cause accidents if he ever performed it near traffic. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

I let go of the lawn, glancing at him in surprise. He was going to tell me? "Yeah, uh - yes," I said, stumbling over my words and scooting myself closer. "I'm sure."

Edward cleared his throat and shook his head a bit, as if to clear his mind. "All right. Here goes."

I found myself fisting the ground in equal parts of anticipation and dread, and my breath suddenly felt like smoke in my chest. His dreams were never easy to hear, and so far, I'd only heard the recurring ones. I wasn't sure what kind of horrors he was about to recount, now.

"Well," he started, frowning a bit. "See … there was this Care Bear …"

_Care Bear? … What the - ?_

"It was hot pink and glittery and kept asking me for hugs."

_Oh, my God. _"Edward - "

"And it _smiled, with teeth_. I was terrified," he continued, completely straight-faced. "Nothing should be that happy."

I scoffed a laugh, falling onto my back and rolling my eyes. "You're such an ass."

"_Hey_," he said in mock-anger, reaching over and pulling me on top of him, and I couldn't help but hold back a throaty moan as my hips scraped against his belt. "You laugh, but that thing was an overbearing bastard, okay? It wanted to hold my hand and sing '_Somewhere Over the Rainbow_.' Now, I'm not saying it was as scary as a _fire pony _- "

"Oh, shut up," I giggled, folding my legs under his and ducking my chin, stealing the smirk off his lips with mine.

I was grateful for the hill's privacy, its slope and security a perfect combination for moments like these. Other than the fourth floor, there weren't many places we could go to be by ourselves. We'd been modest in the company of others, keeping our affection to no more than our hands linked together, or his arm around my back, and it was artless and gratifying. But _now, _when we were alone, I couldn't pretend that it wasn't difficult to not let _other _body parts get involved, too.

Even though the comfort of his arms and warm, sparking touch of his mouth on mine were remarkable, I always wanted more. I wanted to pour myself into him and feel his response, feel the press of his body and drive him to the state that he always brought me to - the hot, maddening arousal that made my toes curl. It really had been hell to tear myself away from him at night and retreat to my empty bed, tangling myself in cool sheets instead of his legs, and only hear the whisper of my own breath as I fell asleep.

But until he said the word, I was going to have to keep my eager panting and wandering hands to myself. Or _on _myself.

"Cold? Want to go back inside?" I asked him as I felt him shiver beneath me.

"Mm, no," he responded, his eyes closed and mouth set in a glorious, lusty pout. "I can't take the inquiries."

The lobby was incredibly busy, as the lodge was holding some kind of anniversary party for a pair of Forks' finest senior citizens; the sofas were occupied, and the Entertainment Hall was full of elderly people who were either dancing the funky chicken, or asking when Edward and I were going to 'get hitched.'

I laughed. "Can you imagine if it were February, and Valentine's Day was right around the corner? Imagine the meddling, then."

Edward chuckled. "Doris would probably put us on display."

"She'd put _you _on display," I corrected. "You know those love auctions, where girls bid on overly-muscular man-meat?"

"Maybe we should get you one of those," he said, his eyes still shut, giving the appearance of a sleeping angel. "They could keep you company on days like today, when all I can do is fall asleep on you."

I paused, placing my palms on the grass and lifting myself above him. "You're right. Maybe I should go hit up Jacob."

He opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "Jacob, huh? After the to-be-married men, are you?"

"He's got friends," I joked, then snuggled into his chest, feeling his heart thump against my ear. Edward encircled his arms around me and sighed deeply, causing my head to rise and fall with his breath. I felt so comfortable in his embrace, and could have stayed on the hill until nightfall if it wasn't for the cold. "And for the last time, you're not boring me. It's just the weather. We're losing the sun."

"Maybe we should pack up and sail to Hawaii," he mused. "Given our current skin pigment, I think we both could use a little - "

Out of nowhere, a ringing peal sounded - Edward's phone, chiming directly from his jeans. I kept still, frozen, my fingers involuntarily curling into his shirt. All joking and smiles aside, this was a sound that warranted worry; the last time we'd both been present for one of his incoming calls, a shit storm had blown in and ruined everything.

He didn't make a move to answer it, so I quietly asked, "Are you going to get it?"

I felt one of his arms unwind from my back and reach next to my leg for his pocket, and with a seemingly 'Please-God-let-it-be-a-telemarketer' expression, he glanced at the small screen.

"Ben," he breathed before accepting the call. "Hey, man. What's going on?"

All of my muscles turned to Jell-o, relaxing in relief. I rolled off of him so he could talk without my weight on his lungs and rested beside him, listening to him speak and disciplining my fingers to stop wanting to slide underneath his shirt to fulfill _Operation Molestation: The Pecs of Perfection, Abs of Adoration, and Beneath-the-Belt-Bits. _

_Mm. Damn._

"Hold on, I'll ask her."

_Oops. There you go, again, being you - fantasizing and not listening. You hill whore. _I tilted my head upward, curious.

"There's some kind of fair going on in town, later," Edward said, eyes sparkling, even without the help of the sunbeams. "Do you want to check it out with Ben and Angela?"

"Yeah, sounds fun," I replied with a smile, excited to be hanging out as a group again. Edward continued his conversation and I traced my finger along his collar, up to his jaw and under his neck, and giggled as he recoiled with a grin, ticklish. I settled my hand right atop his shirt, above the crest of his jeans, thinking that if I didn't go further than the belt, I was still treading on solid ground. There would be no accidental mind-orgasms on my part - not as long as my fingers didn't make their way under his shirt, after all, and come into contact with the warm, solid slats of muscle on his stomach. I wondered what he might do if I tried, anyway…

"Bella?"

Edward cleared his throat, and I looked up again, snapping out of my libidinous mind game. _Okay, you need to stop. _"Hmm?"

"Angela's about to drive to Port Angeles to go shopping, beforehand," Edward relayed. "She's only right down the street. Do you want to go with her? Ben and I might go shoot some pool, grab a beer…" He was adorable with his hopeful eyes and raised brows, as if 'guy time' sounded like Disneyworld.

"Sure, tell her I'll be in the parking lot in a few minutes," I answered.

"Can you tell her Bella will meet her in the lot, out front?" Edward spoke into his phone, and for some reason, I couldn't look away from his mouth; watching his lips move and pout against each other, seeing his teeth tap his tongue in verbal harmony, and -

_You are crazy. He's talking. _Talking_. For the love of God._

I buried my face in his side, inhaling the scent of fresh grass and familiar vanilla as I ran my hand up and down his shirt - from his collar to his belt - relishing in the feel of everything heated and firm underneath. When he finally ended his call, I glanced up, my arm stretching across his waist, and said, "So, where are you and Ben - " and then I stopped, creasing my eyebrows. "Why is your face all red?"

His cheeks - even the tips of his ears - had turned completely pink. Not that I minded; I loved the look of him all flushed and serious, with eyes on fire. It made him look like … _sex_.

"Why is _your _face all red?" he countered, swallowing.

I hadn't noticed. "I - I don't know - because yours is, I guess? What happened?"

"You and your _hands _happened," he said, exhaling slowly. "You're sitting there, touching me and biting your lip, and looking like … just, Jesus, Bella."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling my face darken further with blood. "I'm … sorry…"

"_No_," he practically growled, and before I knew it, he was on top of me, kneeling over my right thigh, lips inches away from mine. "I'm not asking for an _apology_," he murmured, his hair rippling from the wind.

_Whoa_. I'd never seen him look so intense before - not this way, not with passion-driven eyes and a ready-to-pounce stance. "What - what are you asking for?" I rasped. My throat was unexpectedly clotted in a phantomlike way, almost too tight to breathe.

He slid his hand under my jaw, cupping my cheek, and his breath was so, so warm and overcame the sound of the trees, the leaves, the air. He was all I could hear. "Just a continuation."

There it was. He'd said it - the _word_.

_Green light._

My mouth dropped in astonishment as my blood pressure rose to sky-high limits. My heart was a geyser, spouting adrenaline and lust in fruitful blasts, making my head spin and my hands grow a mind of their own. Before he could speak another word, I grabbed his waist and pulled him all the way down, heavy upon me, our bodies crashing together as my mouth caught his cry of surprise.

I wrapped my legs around his again, curving my hips against him, wanting to feel everything. The sudden, throbbing warmth between my legs wanted to know if _he _was turned on, too, but his coat was big, half past my thighs, and too thick - it was _in the way_. But I couldn't care as his fingers threaded through my hair, and he pressed himself against me in the most wonderful way and flipped me on top of him in an effortless, exciting motion. We were breathy, eager, appetent - a full-bodied frenzy.

Seconds spilled over to minutes, and just as I thought of shedding every bit of clothing, unconcerned about the show we might give any of the guests who ventured outside, the sudden scrape of tires against gravel made us slow down, hesitate. A car was here, and whether or not it was Angela's was unknown - at least, from our hill-obstructed view. He tucked his head into the sweep of my shoulder, kissing me lightly along my neck. "_God _… I don't want to stop."

"We don't have to," I answered quietly, letting my hands boldly travel just below the small of his back. _Holy shit. The apex of Edward Masen's ass is in your hands. _"I can blow off shopping."

He laughed, and as if on cue, my cell phone started buzzing inside my purse, which was laying a foot away. I groaned a bit and reached, plucking out my taped-up phone and opening it, revealing a text message from Angela.

"_I'm outside! Ready?"_

I gazed at Edward, my expression surely fluctuating from greedy to unsure. "We could meet them later," I whispered, as if Angela might be able to hear me. Edward's eyes narrowed, and I reconsidered, blurting out, "Or maybe we should go. I mean, _I _should go. Shouldn't I?"

My heart was beating tremendously, the rest of my body following suit, pleading and aching to satisfy a craving that had been on my mind for _so _long. But we'd just agreed to other plans with friends - friends we hadn't seen in nearly a week. We'd only met them for dinner five days ago, and even though Edward's and my time at the lodge was valued, we were both getting cabin fever.

"You should go," Edward said hoarsely, looking somewhat torn. "No, you're right - we should go. We can…"

_Continue the continuation ASAP. Say it. _My sassy pants never did need very long to recover from being stunned by sexiness. But I just kept breathing, my chest pushing into his, and I kissed him once more - slower and softer, soaking up the moment. I placed my boiling cheek against his, which felt equally temperate.

"I guess I'll see you later?" I asked, not ready to unwind myself from his arms.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, lightly sucking on the space under my earlobe, making blissful, little chills cool the burn in my blood.

"I should walk up," I said, fighting the urge to text Angela and tell her I was sick, and would be skipping the shopping, the fair, the evening - just to go back to a state of heavenly aphrodisia, and the sweet, supple feeling of putting my hands and lips in places that should have been considered deadly - because I would have happily died if I'd gotten to finish such an act, to receive that kind of full attention in return.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice rumbling against my throat before he kissed it. "I'm going to stay here for awhile."

I hummed longingly, taking a moment to squeeze his body to mine for a few moments more before I released him, and sluggishly pushed myself up. He held on, his hands tight and unwilling to let me go easily. "Here," I said, unzipping and shrugging out of his coat, having to press my hand against his mouth before he could protest. "Shush. I'm going shopping, aren't I? I need a new hoodie, anyway. Preferably one that doesn't read that I'm your little hooker."

He smiled, pulling his arms into the thick sleeves of the coat and lazily curling onto his side. "I suppose that would be better than parading it around town. And I'd prefer to have that secret stay between us, anyway."

I shook my head, amused. "Right, I forgot about your induction into the Pimp Hall of Fame. I'll have to buy you a big purple suit and a gold hat."

"Maybe you can even get a jacket so I can stop putting you in mine," he teased.

"Okay," I answered, laughing and getting to my feet. "But, don't lie. You love it when I steal your clothes."

He just grinned, and I waved goodbye. As I headed toward the parking lot, I could only think how much _I_ was the one who loved stealing his clothes. It was one step closer to him being naked, after all.

-:-

"Bella, get out of there."

"I'm just trying to find - there might be a black one-"

"Nope," said Angela, pulling the back of my shirt and herding me out of my comfort zone.

I couldn't complain; it had been fun to shop around with Angela. During the day, we browsed eclectic music shops, sipped caramel lattes and talked about the boys, and rummaged through stacks of antiquated books. But when it came to clothes… well, that was Angela's thing - not mine, really. Everything was _fancy_; there were designer-labels at every corner. I'd been fishing through the racks containing sweatshirts and lounge pants, and there were _still _big, flashy, silver and gold emblems and charms sewed onto the garments. I couldn't understand who the hell would want to look ornamental for an occasion that necessitated sitting on their ass. And, of course, as soon as Angela had spotted me hiding among the 'Fabric of our Lives' section, she began pushing me toward the dressier clothes.

"Come on, you have to get something other than a _hoodie,_" she said, stopping in front of a display of dresses. "Seriously, if you're going to snag yourself a hot night with Edward later, you'll want something that can't be recreated by Fruit of the Loom."

Angela had been in a playful mood all afternoon, grinning and sighing happily, and with all the frisky teasing coming from her, I figured that she and Ben had probably taken a climb up Mount Multiple-O, recently. "Are you _kidding _me?" I said, scoffing a laugh. "It's forty-eight degrees out. And I'm not wearing a dress to a _carnival_."

"It's the Forks' Annual _Harvest Festival_, thank you very much," she said, examining a piece that was speckled with pink and black printed flowers. "And I need a dress for Ben's cousin's wedding next month. For you, I was thinking more along the lines of something like _that_." She pointed to a mannequin adorned in a tight, low-cut top and giggled at my hesitant expression. It wasn't like my steady B-cup was anything to win awards with, after all. "Come on, Bella, if you won't tell the guy you love him, maybe you can _show _him. Starting with that shirt."

Since I couldn't bring my pansy-ass to confess the 'L-word' to a certain someone, I'd confided in Angela, instead. With the way she was teasing me about it, I wasn't sure if I was regretting it, yet, or not - if she let it slip around Edward, I'd probably choke on my own tongue. Yet, she had a point. After thinking about how I'd felt before going shopping, with my rampant, thrumming pulse heavy in my ears and chest (and other unmentionable places), I decided that - damn it - it was almost _unfair _that he stirred my body into such a hormone-crazed mayhem. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to show a little skin and make him sweat a bit, too.

It all sounded good in my head, and when I asked Angela to help me pick out a few things, I felt even more confident. Then, in the dressing room, staring at a reflection of myself in tight-fitting jeans, a boob-hugging shirt, and a sexy-casual-everyone's-wearing-them-faux-leather jacket, I felt a little bit slutty. The jeans were Lauren-worthy, my B-cup had magically become a C - I wasn't sure how - and the jacket made me look like sort of a _badass_… which was the biggest oxymoron ever.

"Come on, let me see," Angela said, jiggling the locked doorknob.

I turned sideways, wishing I could grow myself an ass. "I'm not sure about this…"

"Oh, just open the door."

I sighed, wrinkling my nose and feeling like a desperate-wannabe Top Model, but Angela grinned when I exited the dressing room. "Wow, Bella. You look _incredible_. And your boobs look - "

"Fake?" I snorted and self-consciously tugged the v-fold of my shirt closer together; in my periphery, I could see a short girl and tall blonde standing a few feet away, staring at me, and I suddenly felt like I was right back in high school, having my chest-size evaluated by my fellow gym mates. "I look too disproportionate."

Angela rolled her eyes, tossing her purse on the floor and pulling me over to a large, tri-folded mirror. "Look at yourself - you look _hot_."

"I'm Skank-Ass Barbie."

She laughed, gathering her hair into a ponytail. "Hardly. But standing on your toes like that doesn't help," she said, leaving me to stare at myself as she walked back over to a rack of dresses.

I lowered my heels to the ground and watched the denim flood over half my feet. "They're a little long," I said aloud, to myself, thinking of my boring, black, flat shoes lying on the dressing room floor. They weren't exactly going to help me out.

"Oh, but that's where these come in."

Surprised, I turned toward the cheerful voice that was not Angela's, and came face to face with the short girl who had been observing me only a moment ago. Her choppy, black hair and shocking, ivory skin stunned me for a beat, and I couldn't help but gawk at her, because her eyes were the color of golden flames… and I'd _seen _those eyes before.

"Huh?" I replied, internally handing myself the Award of Impolite Jackassery.

She smiled, obviously not caring that I was staring at her like a socially awkward deer in headlights. "Right here," she said, pointing to her feet, which were encased in a stylish pair of black leather boots. "I'm so short, even the petite sizes are too long. I'm always stuck wearing heels."

I nodded stupidly, snapping my gaping mouth shut so a fucking fly wouldn't find its way inside. She was kind of ethereally stunning, as if she'd been plucked straight out of a fairy tale and set onto Earth; yet, something about her was oddly familiar.

"I'm Alice. And, you're Bella, of course," she said warmly, extending one of her small hands in my direction. I was surprised that she knew my name - this was Port Angeles, after all, not Forks - but even more puzzled by the fact that she didn't say _Isabella_. I accepted her hand, and my eyes widened at the intensely cold temperature of her fingers. "Sorry," she said with a small giggle, holding up a soda cup that was dripping with condensation. "This thing is freezing my hands off."

"Oh - that's okay. And yes, I'm - I'm Bella." What was it with me and strangers, and the inability to speak intelligently? "Nice to meet you."

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked, a curious glimmer in her eyes.

I was pretty sure I'd remember a walking, talking porcelain doll, if I'd ever met one, before. "Remember you?" I repeated, racking my brain.

She nodded, a friendly smile on her face. "It was awhile ago, and, if I'm not mistaken, you were somewhat drugged," she recounted. "At the hospital, the first week of October. We shared an elevator."

"_Really?" _I couldn't help but blurt it out, because I had absolutely no recollection of her at all. But I supposed it made sense; I'd been completely out of it, that night. But the word 'hospital' made my inner light bulb spark to life - _that _was why her eyes were so memorable - only, I'd seen them on someone else, first. "Wait, are you … you're Dr. Cullen's daughter?"

"Oh, so you _do _remember me," she said, beaming, seeming genuinely pleased to be talking with me.

"Well… not exactly," I said apologetically. "You have your dad's eyes. They're kind of unusual…" It was faint, but her expression faltered for a moment, the smallest dip of seriousness on her lips, and I could have slapped myself. "Not - not in a _bad _way, I mean - they're really pretty. I've just never seen…" _Stop talking, blowhard. _I shook my head, ticking my tongue on the roof of my mouth. "So… boots, huh?"

She perked up again, nodding. "I think they could do the trick," she said kindly, motioning for me to follow her. She was dressed as though she shopped in places like this often, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to take her advice.

"So, Bella," she said as we walked around the corner, where a small display of boots were posed, from cowgirl to fuck-me-hard, to ruggedly-chic. "Are you sticking around town because you fell madly in love with the wet Washington air?"

I chuckled. "Just playing around in the family roots, I guess. I was born here. And my dad was the police chief up until last year."

"Charlie. He was great." She spoke my father's name with a smile, and right as I expected her to launch into a speech on how she knew him, or ask how he was, she cocked an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "So, you aren't staying because of a _guy_, then?"

I let out a ridiculous giggle, like a choking hyena, and instantly turned ten sheets of crimson. "Um…" I stalled, hesitantly reaching to check a price tag on a pair of suede boots.

"Starts with 'E,' rhymes with 'bedward?'"

Actually feeling dizzy from the second round of blood rushing to my head, I got a grip on one of the shelves and stared at her, wondering how the hell she knew so much. "How…?"

"Oh, I met him, too," she said casually, seeming amused at my sudden resemblance to Elmo. "I candy stripe every now and again and met him last week. I recognized him from the time you were at the hospital, and we got to talking… he's pretty fond of you."

I wasn't sure whether to beg her to tell me what he said or flush another shade of pink. "Yeah, I'm pretty fond of him, too," I said shyly, making Alice laugh musically.

"Sorry, I'm always in everyone's business. I blame it on living in a small town," she admitted, glancing between my outfit and a pair of charcoal boots that matched my jacket. "Here, how about these? Not too bulky… you could wear them underneath the jeans, or overtop like me. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure if I'm cool enough to pull off the runway look like you can," I said with a smile, kneeling down to find a box in my size. "But they're nice. Thanks for your help, really. I probably would have ended up rolling my jeans and looking like I belonged in some kind of 80's video."

I glanced up to her, but she had her eyes narrowed, looking distracted, as though she was listening to a whispered secret from someone I couldn't see.

"Alice?"

After a few moments, she blinked, inhaling and giving me a small smile. "Sorry. I have a tendency to daydream."

"Oh, don't worry." I stood up with a shoebox, holding it against my hip. "I do that all the time. I should have gotten extra credit for it in high school."

My joke was lame, but she laughed with an insightful grin. "You have no idea," she remarked, just as Angela rounded the corner.

"Hey, there you are," Angela called to me, walking over and giving the beautiful, tiny girl next to me a wave. "Hey, Alice!"

Alice was charismatic, easily falling into conversation with Angela and I about our day and the fall festivities taking place later that evening, and I found myself even more interested about her. She spoke to me like we were old friends. Even the small glances she gave me ran deeper than how most people in my life looked at me (save Edward), as though she already knew my secrets, but was still curious… like _I_ was the enigma. I wanted to ask about _her - _her father and family, if I was being honest - and when she and Angela began to chat about the hospital, I had my window.

Only, it was interrupted by buzzing coming from my purse. I quietly stepped to the side, leaving them to talk, and took out my phone. One new text message from Edward.

"_Do girls ever get tired of shopping?"_

Chuckling, I typed back, _"Miss me already?"_

"_A little. Holding Ben's hand isn't as fun."_

I snorted softly. _"Don't worry, we're almost done. We'll call when we're close to the fair. Save your hands for me, okay?"_

"_I promise. See you soon."_

I sighed, stuffing my phone back into my purse and leaning against the wall, feeling my chest surge with anticipation. When I looked up, Angela and Alice were smirking, conveying perceptive stares that they knew I was a blob of Bella-putty in Someone That Rhymed With Bedward's hands.

"Smitten, Kitten?" Angela piped up.

I tried to act casual, though I felt my face pinking, and calmly took two steps toward them. "How do you know it wasn't Charlie?"

"Because incest doesn't seem to be your thing," she replied, making me grimace in horror while Alice looked on in amusement. "And something tells me you don't smile like that for your dad. Maybe a sugar _daddy_, or-"

"_Gross_," I uttered, once again picturing Edward in a pimp outfit, and feeling the need for brain bleach.

After another minute of teasing and giggling, a sudden crash made us all whip our heads to the left. A girl of the most striking caliber was standing by a display of purses, smoothing her long, golden, Pantene-approved hair as two gawky teenage boys were struggling to pick themselves up off a spilled rack of clothes, which I supposed they'd overturned, somehow. The blonde simply looked at her nails and barely contained a smirk. Alice raised her eyebrows, looking somewhat unconcerned. "Well, I should probably get back to my sister. She's causing accidents, as always."

I didn't blame her; I wasn't into girls, but she was so gorgeous and curvaceous, I might have fallen all over myself, too, if I'd noticed her in passing. This 'sister' had been the one standing with Alice, though I hadn't gotten a good look at her before. Well, if I'd learned anything, it was that the Cullen family had a guaranteed ability to stun people speechless, and apparently trigger tripping spells, with their beauty.

"Any _day_, Alice," she called in a bored voice, running her eyes over the group of us, letting her gaze settle on me; she was tight-lipped, but not quite frowning.

Alice let out a melodic laugh, distracting me enough to turn my attention back to her, and rolled her eyes. "Don't mind her. Rosalie gets impatient when there aren't enough mirrors for her to look into."

The girl called Rosalie was too far away to have heard her sister, but she still scowled as though she had. She gave me one last look of ambiguity before heading to the front of the store.

"It was really nice to finally meet you while you're lucid, Bella," Alice said with a twinkle in her eye as she chose a pair of purple suede boots from the shelf for herself, and tucked them under her arm. She reached for the box I was still holding and tapped the top with a eloquent smile. "Oh, make sure to flash Edward a bit of the buckle. He won't be able to take his eyes off you. See you later, girls." She winked and jogged back to her sister, giving us a final wave.

"Getting boots, huh?" Angela said slyly, nudging my shoulder. "Way to make him sweat, Bella."

I shrugged, a little embarrassed, still unsure if I could pull off this whole look. "No big deal. They just cover my feet and make me taller."

"And make men picture you wearing _only _those." Angela laughed at the look on my face and before I could stammer over a reply, she continued, "Alice is a sweetheart, isn't she? It's rare to see her without a smile on her face."

"Oh, yeah… She looks just like her dad," I said, staring off into the direction Alice had gone. "Sort of. They've got the same eyes. Didn't you mention that she's adopted, though?"

"Yup," Angela answered. "Out of the kids, I've only really met Alice, but from what I've heard, their whole family has those eyes. I figure they're some kind of special contacts. I guess it's one of those weird family trends, but I'm not one to judge personal style… so, what do you think of this one?" She held up a classy dark purple dress, flashing the forty-percent off sticker in my direction. "On sale, too."

I gave her a thumbs-up and as we walked back to the dressing rooms, my thoughts started to swirl. Angela was obviously used to seeing Alice, for she was completely nonchalant about the uncanny match of the Cullens' caramel eyes. But the whole _family?_ From what I remembered, only a few of them were related by blood; it seemed… strange. Clannish, even.

As I changed back into my clothes and carried my purchases to the front register, I tried to tell myself that maybe Dr. Cullen, along with being an emergency room doctor, was an overprotective ophthalmologist, and he'd ordered the whole family special sun-screening lenses. Other than their eyes and exceptional good looks, they seemed genuinely kind… well, Rosalie had seemed a bit aloof, but I hadn't actually spoken to her, after all. I supposed that some people in small towns were just aimed to be mysterious like this, stereotype or no. Stephen King would have had a field day.

Another buzz in my purse snapped me out of my stupor as I waited for Angela to finish paying. I opened my phone to read, from Edward, of course:

_"I forgot to ask you… is today penguin day?"_

Goddamn it. Him and his hilarity over my cartoon underwear. I shook my head, biting back a grin, and sent: _Nope. It's I'm-Not-Wearing-Any day._

I was totally lying. But it would be worth the look on his face, later.

-:-

**Some notes:**

**The lovely girls over on **_**A Different Forest **_**were kind enough to make me a VIP author over on adifferentforest(dot)com, which tickled me pink and ****giggly. Head on over there to enjoy their campfire chats, artwork, stories, and other goodies that they offer - and if you don't, you're missing out! **

**Oh, I made a tumblr that, for the most part, includes pictures/notes/etc. that have to do with The Woods, just for inspiration. Though, I can't promise there won't be random stuff on there that I just find amusing. ;) It's kind of self-indulgent, but if you want to check it out, my page is http:/www(dot)onedropshy(dot)tumblr(dot)com.**

**I know everyone's tired of hearing this, but this chapter was supposed to be longer - I just didn't want it to draw out into 14,000 words. :P So, in saying that, I know this it didn't seem like much without its other half (I know, girls, you want to see some sex satisfaction!), but it was still necessary. I promise. And the other half is about 2/3 complete, so I'll cross my fingers and try to get it finished quickly, because MAN am I epically slow. See? I recognize my flaws. I do. ;) I'd also like to assure you that I haven't lost sight of my plot, and I do know what's supposed to happen next - I've had a few people tell me they are concerned about that, but no worries. I really am just **_**that **_**bad at updating, lol.**

**So, I'm so sorry that real life has to be an asshole and doesn't give me the time or state of mind to update frequently, but I have to say how much I love you guys. Thanks for all the support, truly. You have no idea. Just, thank you for trusting me and continuing with me. (and you, ninapolitan, you going and giving me two recs in one, so I have to thank you again. Xoxo + cupcakes.)**


	29. Black Magic & Blackout

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I own new clothes. I got myself too excited last chapter and went out and bought the same outfit I described for Bella. So, now _I'm _Skank-Ass Barbie, BUT THAT IS OKAY BECAUSE I'M SINGLE AND I DON'T CARE.

Thank you for being patient, everybody. Moving is kind of a pain in the ass. Or, a giant raging one that sucked up all my time. :P But I'm finally settled in and everything is cool and back to normal. (Okay, well, I don't have any tables yet and there may or may not be a sofa in my bedroom because it won't fit anywhere else, but whatever. It's all good!) If anyone would like to send me money or food, please call 1-800-In-Christina's-Dreams.

My apologies in advance since this wasn't beta'd - I was in a hurry to post because I'm internet-less at my condo, and I'm posting this at a Starbucks - so if there are any errors, I'll fix them later. Or you can partly blame queenofgrey for not catching them, as she was my ever-dependable pre-reader. (Joking, Jes. You are a lifesaver.)

Last chapter: Bella and Edward got snuggly, spoon-y, and hump-y on the hill, but didn't go any further because getting naked outside in 40-degree weather by a lodge full of people isn't a good idea. Plus, Angela showed up to take Bella out for girl time - shopping, particularly, where Bella met Alice Cullen. O.O She may have decided to buy new clothes to try to look sexy for Edward, too. And there was flirty text-messaging about underwear. Now that you're up to speed, enjoy the Fluffward while he lasts. ;)

* * *

-:-

"Hey, _hurry _- here comes Edward!"

"Wh-what?" I wriggled my half-naked ass into my new jeans, trying to duck my head below the car's windowsill, only to end up falling into the gap between the front and back seats.

Angela tossed her head back with laughter as I cursed under my breath. "I'm _kidding," _she giggled._ "_No one's coming."

"You… _suck_," I grunted as I strained to pull myself upright, even though I couldn't help snickering, too. I felt a little naughty changing in the back seat of a car, like some fashion-deprived teen with strict parents, who was never let out of the house wearing anything more revealing than a turtleneck.

Once I was finally dressed in my new outfit, I followed Angela out of the car, primped and feeling giddy. She and I ambled into the crowd of people that had congregated near the entrance of the carnival - excuse me, _festival. _I'd never seen one amid the woods, before. Against the backdrop of evergreens and yellowed oaks, compact booths held games, stuffed toys, and goldfish in plastic bags, along with purchasable crafts, raffle tickets, and refreshments. The aroma of salty, fried grease and oiled metal simmered and wafted through the trees, carried by the chilled wind that rustled my hair. There were rides scattered throughout the grounds, too; a rusty, but classic carousel for kids, a rainbow-colored Round-Up, a standard ferris wheel, and one particular torture contraption where people sat inside a cage and were repeatedly flipped upside down, somersaulting. Mentally, I put that one on the "Hell No" list, and pulled Angela away as soon as she said, "Ooh, we should get on that one."

"_You _can," I said, cringing at the sight of the lunatics who were willingly riding that circle of insanity. "If _I_ do, I'll puke all over my Picture-Me-Naked boots and ruin any chances of whoring it up, later."

"Yes, that would be a shame, wouldn't - _aaaaah_!" she screamed, whirling around so fast, I had to dodge her purse from swinging into my face. Ben had snuck up behind us and was now clutching Angela's waist, practically dying of hilarity from having spooked her.

"Damn it, Ben!" she shrieked, smacking his arm and unsuccessfully containing a relieved laugh. "A simple 'hey' would have been sufficient, don't you think?"

"Not as much fun," he said with a grin, kissing her cheek. "So, what would have been a shame?"

Angela fixed her hair and slid her purse strap back onto her shoulder, granting me a teasing smile. "Just that Bella wouldn't be able to-"

"Tolerate seeing Jessica or Lauren tonight," I interrupted, pulling a thought out of my ass and playfully scrunching my face at her. Ben squinted his eyes, knowing me too well by now. "_Ohh_," he replied with good-humored skepticism. "Yeah, that would be a shame… since, you know, they'd be whoring it up and all."

I sighed, wanting to zip my face into my faux-leather coat. "You overhear way too much embarrassing crap that comes out of my mouth," I whined, then quickly turned around to see if Edward was behind me, planning to mirror Ben's actions and grab my ribs; also, to see if he had been listening in, too. But, there was no one but scattered strangers.

"He's over by the picnic tables," Ben said, reading my mind and pointing over our shoulders. "I was on my way to the bathroom."

"I'll walk with you," Angela said to him, giving me a gentle push toward the food area. "Meet you in a few minutes?"

Nodding, I lightly shoved her back, shaking my head at her wily, wagging eyebrows. I made my way through the crowd, bypassing small children and rowdy adults, and lingered by a small condiment bar as I searched the rows of tables with eager eyes. Edward was standing against a chain-link fence that was separating the fair from the forest, looking like an exquisite, godlike carving of man in the midst of everything average - the epitome of allure. As if to prove my point, there was a little girl about one or two years old at a table across from him, who was waving and beaming at him like he was the best thing she'd seen all night, regardless of the festivities around her. He grinned back with a returned gesture; the scene was so cute, I felt my body grow warm, including my heart. And when his eyes lifted and met mine, I had to remind my feet to move.

"Hi," I said as I approached him, noticing that he was dressed in a new shirt, too, or at least one I hadn't seen before. He had color in his cheeks, as if they'd been sun-swept in my absence, and his eyes were shining in a strange way, but still a radiant, beautiful clover.

"My God," he said, reaching for my hand with one of his and curving the other on my waist. "You are… just…"

He didn't complete his thought. He simply stared, and I could almost feel the sweep of his gaze over my body, like a stroke of a paintbrush against the thick of a canvas. "It's too much, isn't it?" I asked him, running a hand over my jacket. "I'm overdressed, aren't I? I look - "

"Insanely beautiful," he finished. I felt my face heat in pleasure and insecurity and started to shake my head, but he said, "Don't even. I took one look at you and sobered up."

"You've been drinking, huh?" I asked, amused, figuring that was why he was gazing at me like I was a bombshell.

He briefly glanced at his feet, seeming a tad embarrassed. "Somewhat. Sorry."

"I don't care," I giggled, glad his jacket was unzipped. I slid my hands inside, around his torso, and snuggled against the downy fabric of his shirt. It was definitely a new addition. "Did you save me any?"

"Pumpkin ale?" he said, hugging me close. "No, but I can get you a bucket."

I laughed into his chest before leaning back to stare at him. "You had a _bucket _of beer? No wonder you think I look good."

Edward blew out a small breath, making my hair ripple as he ducked his head. "It was only one of those mini plastic things. And I'm buzzed, not out of my mind. You're gorgeous."

When he leaned down to kiss me, my fingers curled into his coat and I felt warm, forgetting the surrounding crowd of people who were probably ogling us or shaking their heads in disapproval at our "teenage-like" behavior. I savored the moment, noticing that he smelled different, too - a cocktail of autumn wind and roasted sugar, and a faint tang of cinnamon and clove. I wanted to bottle it, or swim in it, and for an embarrassing second, I wanted to lick his face.

"Thank you, but I think you're outshining me at the moment," I said once he had straightened. "You look pretty edible." _Oh, shit_. At my words, I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose and waiting for the inevitable skyrocket of blood to shoot to my face. "I meant to say incredible…"

_Oh my God. Edible. You want to eat him. Great, that's great. Score, Cannibella!_

Edward only laughed. "I'll take edible," he said, holding my hand and beginning to walk. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat before you bite me."

_Mhm. That could certainly be arranged. _Okay, so, at least I had the ability to keep _some _thoughts contained. Thank God.

Ben and Angela caught up with us in the next few minutes and we all partook in pit beef sandwiches (Ben made me nearly choke as he teased that it was moose) and the seasonal favorite, pumpkin ale. The beer was burnt orange and, sure enough, came in buckets. It lived up to its name, tasting like fizzy pumpkin pie, and after only half a pail, I was giggly. So was Angela, who tugged our hands and gestured toward the rides after the buckets had all but run dry.

"Let's get on something," she suggested with a grin.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, staring up at the sinister-looking upside-down ride. "After _drinking?"_

"Not _that _one," she said, turning my shoulders in an opposite direction. "How about the ferris wheel? You guys aren't afraid of heights, are you?" She took Ben's hand and led him directly to the ride, which looked picturesque with its brightly lit bulbs against the pink and grey sky, simultaneous clouds of a cotton candy sunset and charcoal fog.

Edward tucked his arm around my shoulder as we followed. "I'm not. Are you?" I shook my head since I wasn't, but for some reason, the idea of riding in the colorful seats built for two, with the potential cliché of getting stuck at the top all by ourselves, made me laugh. "What's so funny?" he asked, amused at my tipsy giggles.

"This is just so cute and cheesy, getting on the _ferris wheel _with my _boyfriend_," I said, and was about to joke and ask if he'd let me wear his class ring, next… only, I realized what I'd just said. _Boyfriend_. Aside from the one minor time that Jacob had let it slip on the beach over a week ago, Edward and I hadn't ever had _that _conversation - the one that gave us _titles _of what we were to each other. "That just came out," I confessed, feeling unsure as I tugged on my sleeves, slightly hiding my hands inside.

He stopped walking, pausing to grant me his feathered lashes and curious eyes. They seemed almost aquamarine from the midway lights. "Aren't I?"

"Are you?" I echoed, suddenly a bit more clear-headed with the wind in my face and the look on his.

"I know I'm not exactly elegant about these things," he said, reaching to pull at his collar before entangling his hand in my hair, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck. "But I think of you as my girlfriend. I just haven't said it out loud, before."

His girlfriend. _Me_. He looked so sweet and adorably shy, and I felt my cheeks stretch into a smile.

"Should I be sorry about that?" he asked, his hands leaving my hair and slipping down my back. He could have been trailing his fingers through water, his touch was so smooth.

I stood on my toes, my breath showing in ghostly puffs as I neared his lips. "No. Not at all." Our kiss was quick and light, and we both laughed, making me want to pour the sound into another bucket to drink and feel a deeper intoxication, one that was raw and beautiful, and completely us.

By the time we managed to make our way to the ferris wheel, Ben and Angela were already riding in circles, whipping up into the air and waving to us like silly kids. A kid with a crinkly nametag, _Eric_, barred us into a metal seat and soon enough, we were moving up, higher and faster than I had expected. The wind gusted under my sleeves and down my neck, and I huddled closer to Edward. The rushing movement combined with the affectionate feel of his arm around my shoulders was exhilarating, and for awhile we simply sat, enjoying the view.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but as we made another ascent into the highest point of the ride, I started feeling capriciously chatty. "You know… my whole name makes no sense. Bella means beautiful and swans are graceful. I think I should have been named Dorcas Tumbleweed."

Edward snapped out of his daydream and rolled his eyes. "Dorcas means _gazelle_, you know," he said, giving me his panty-melting smile. "Aren't they supposed to be graceful?"

I curled my lip, fighting a snort. "How do you _know _this stuff?"

"I went to law school." He purposefully stuck his nose in the air, pretending to be pompous.

"Oh, yeah? Did you sleep with a professor named Dorcas? Get a little extra credit _and _name origin?" He literally bit back a smile, and I reached over and pulled on his bottom lip, freeing it from his teeth. "Stop doing sexy things, you tease. You're doing that on purpose."

Wow. Apparently, my verbal filter was drunk, too.

"Maybe," he said, leaning over until his lips barely brushed mine. "Do you know how many times _you _do that a day? Payback, honey."

"_Honey?" _I barked in hilarity, leaning back far enough to make our seat swing. I quickly gripped Edward's arm for stability. "Mike Newton called me that, once."

He scoffed humorously. "Well, _I_ am sanitary, at least, and haven't needed to set crab traps in my pants. I'd like to see Mike Newton say the same."

Even before he finished his sentence, I was laughing so hard, it was a shock I didn't cause our seat to flip over. He laughed, too, and as we rode higher, our giggles slowly calmed and faded into breathy sighs. We were gently swaying, stopped at the top of the ride, now, and as funny and corny as it was, I was distracted. Suddenly, I couldn't take my eyes off of Edward. He looked more like his old self from the picture he'd shown me of his family. The small smile on his face, free of care, was more scenic than the evening sky. And there was something about him - a glint in his eyes, maybe - that was colorful, more alive than I'd seen before.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

He took a few moments, running his hand over his hair and breathing in the night air before he answered. "I'm thinking … I'm happy."

I supposed some girls might feel elated at the sight of their boyfriends breaking out gifts of new jewelry or roses. Maybe even concert tickets or dinner on a rooftop elicited girly screams of joy. But with two words, Edward caused a flood of exhilaration to flow through me like a drug, pulsing in my veins and heart - the warmest kind of gratification. His eyes spoke a deeper message, and I could read the rest of his silence as clear as day. I knew that, while he'd certainly felt happy and comfortable at times, it had usually been shadowed by a darker demon that haunted him inside and out. But the satisfaction and relief in his voice was new… he meant what he was saying without hindrance or hesitation.

"Happy," I repeated, and I wasn't sure which one of us felt it more. I tried to tone down my ridiculously wide grin so I didn't scare him.

"Completely." He put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. "I haven't said that since…" He didn't finish, but I knew what he meant. "I just feel like I can finally breathe. I look forward to things… I don't dread the days like I used to."

My hand lingered on his leg before I slid my hand up his chest, letting my fingers play with his collar. "You feel alive?" I did. Every inch of my body felt warm and fluttery, as though brushed by wings of a hummingbird.

"Like never before."

"So do I."

The smile he gave me was so brilliant, and his lips were so perfectly soft and tender against mine, I half expected to burst into scintillating pieces and travel to the sky to be apart of the burning stars. I rested my head on his shoulder, snuggling into him, and couldn't find it in me to care how we looked - how cliché, or couple-y - I just wanted to fiercely hold on to the contentment that was radiating out of him, freeze and frame it, and know that he and I could have it forever, if time allowed.

When the ride ended, we met back with Ben and Angela, who handed us thermal cups of something called Black Magic, which tasted like hot chocolate, but was definitely alcoholic. It burned when I swallowed, but it was dark and bold, and spiced, like something forbidden, and I was kind of turned on by the taste. Apparently, I wasn't above admitting that something as simple as chocolate and staring at Edward was enough to make me a lusty mess, because I murmured in Angela's ear, "I can't stop undressing him in my mind. Don't let me drink anymore, or I might bring this fantasy to life and get us all kicked out."

She tilted her head back with a laugh. "Fantasy, huh? You mean it hasn't happened yet? Holed up on that fourth floor all by yourselves and you haven't even gotten his shirt off?"

"We've been going slow," I answered honestly, leaning on her for support. I may or may not have been a little bit drunk. "But earlier, before you picked me up, we were… I don't know. I don't _know_, Ang. I'm going a little crazy. This isn't healthy. Is it?"

"Well, you're not humping his leg in public, so I'd say you're doing okay."

"True, I'm not Jessica Stan… oh, holy shit. Speak of the VD devil." Because there she was, in all her leather lace-up, slut-pants glory, making my outfit seem fit for church: Jessica. She was with a small group of people, not including Lauren, which was a surprise, but I recognized Mike Newton in a ridiculous frat-boy getup: a college jacket - sleeves pushed up - a polo shirt with the collar popped, a visor across his blond hairline, and _flip flops_. It was _autumn_, at a fair by the _woods_. That boy really belonged in a circus.

Angela turned to look where I was staring, and snorted loudly - probably accidentally. She was a little drunk, too. Edward and Ben practically walked right into us, as we'd stopped walking so abruptly, and gave us questioning looks. I pointed over to one of the refreshment stands and Angela groaned into Ben's chest. Over the course of the week, Angela and Jessica had a bit of a falling out, probably due to all the time Angela had spent with me; Ang wasn't exactly bothered, as she said she and Jessica hadn't been close since high school, anyway… that, and the fact that she'd rather keep her company with people who weren't outright bitches.

Jessica noticed us then, her glaring expression as cold and cutting as the wind. I clasped Edward's hand tightly, fighting a crushing urge to yell, "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Stanley Slutbag right over!" just for an excuse to knock her on her ass again. He reciprocated the squeeze, then wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him, my back to his chest.

"Aww, look at you, all protective," I teased, though, I definitely wasn't complaining that he was holding me - it _was _cold outside… and it was making Jessica's eyes wider than blimps.

"Just trying to make sure you don't catch any germs," he replied. "I hear 'bitch' is highly contagious this year. Let's walk this way."

Ben and Angela followed and we all sputtered on laughter as Ben uttered, "Newton looks like a Ken doll."

"That's fitting," I said, giggling, "since Jessica's just replaced me as Skank-Ass Barbie." I couldn't help turning around to see if she was still watching us, but Jessica had grabbed Mike by the hand and was pulling him to the picnic tables, jabbering away about God-knows-what. He was hardly paying attention, as he was checking out the ass of a girl in front of them.

"You know, my first impression of Mike made me think that he's of those guys who'd tell a girl he'd make their Tootsie Roll right into the Milky Way," I said quietly, close to Angela's ear, and she snickered.

"He called himself 'The Cherry Popper' in college," she responded in a hushed voice, causing me to nearly choke my own spit. "I know. King of cherry pop to the jester of crabby cooches, now."

We burst into tipsy laughter, gasping for breath, and the boys stared at us like we'd just stumbled out of a meth lab. Edward gave Ben a knowing look. "I think you girls could use some water," he said, releasing my hand and digging for his wallet. "Ben, you want anything?"

"Water's great, thanks," he said, nodding. Edward jogged away and we wandered a few feet over to a radio station booth that was playing audio of what I assumed was a football game. Ben, of course, was immediately sucked in, asking what the score was and keenly listening.

Angela grinned at him before whispering to me, "If I ever marry him, at least I know we'll have an awesome TV. I'm sure all the sports' games are going to require high-definition."

I smiled. "Just like my dad. A flat screen was the first thing he bought when he moved to Florida. He watches every kind of sport known to man. Even skiing."

"Oh! We should all go get a cabin up in Hurricane Ridge," she cried eagerly, then turned to tug on Ben's coat. "Babe, want to? I want to see how you handle yourself on a pair of skis."

Ben smiled back, and narrowed his eyes to me. "I'd like to see _Bella _on a pair of skis."

I snorted. "You mean you want to see me tumble down a mountain."

He winked and turned his attention back to the game.

"I'm sure Edward wouldn't have a problem holding you up," Angela giggled, shooting me a devilish grin, clearly under the spell of the Black Magic, too.

I felt slightly dizzy and leaned against the radio booth, cracking a smile. "I could probably handle snow tubing. Even then, I'll probably bounce off and hit a tree."

"That would be so much fun," she continued, musing. "Ski lodges, sweaters, hot chocolate… bear-skin rugs… think of the possibilities."

I laughed, but Ben was suddenly distracted from the radio at her words. "Hey, did you guys hear about what happened at that ski resort in Montana?" At the shake of our heads, he continued, "You just reminded me. It's crazy. A group of skiers were attacked by bears, or something - no survivors. It's all over the news."

The lodge didn't have televisions, at least not on the fourth floor, and the only computers were used by the staff; between limited technology and spending time with Edward, even if there had been a new president elected, I wouldn't have known.

"What? When?" Angela asked, the silly grin on her face disappearing.

"Yesterday, maybe?" he said, tugging at his hair. "I don't think anyone has a clear story, though. One of the resort's employees swears none of the animal parameter fences were crossed - they have cameras, or something. But one of my buddies' cousins works as a mortician over there. He said the blood loss was bizarre. They must have been shredded, like…" He stopped, presumably because of our shocked expressions. "Well, I guess the signs pointed to an animal attack."

I zipped my coat a bit, feeling my skin prickle and frowning at the familiarity of the thought. It sounded much too similar to… no, I didn't want to think about that. "That's terrible."

"Anyway, it's weird," Ben continued. "I mean, I get that bears come out of hibernation, sometimes, but it's pretty early for that. And there were _eleven _people. You'd think someone would have been able to outrun them, you know?"

She and I nodded, and we all stood quietly as the sounds of others' carefree chatter echoed around us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to kill the mood," he apologized, pulling Angela into a comforting hug and squeezing my shoulder. "Maybe we could skip the mountains and go to the Bahamas, huh? We could get on jet skis, instead."

I forced a smile. "Sure. Watching me wipe out during water sports is much more fun than seeing me faceplant into the snow, anyway."

Thankfully, my self-mockery was enough to make them laugh. Just then, I saw a glimpse of familiar chestnut hair in my periphery; Edward was coming back. I tugged on Ben's sleeve, getting his and Angela's attention.

"Guys … do me a favor?" I said quickly, quietly. "About the bear attack? Don't tell Edward."

It made me feel guilty to say such a thing. He wasn't a child, but the image of him, shaky and sweaty after a nightmare - of which I knew nothing about - was still too fresh in the back of my mind. And this wasn't a big secret that involved him, after all. It was just bad news that he didn't need to hear.

Even though they didn't have all the facts, Angela and Ben didn't give me strange looks or question my words; they merely nodded their understanding. At some point, without going into detail, Edward had mentioned to Ben that he'd lost his parents, and he'd given me the 'okay' to tell Angela about his panic disorder. "On the chance that I lose it while we're out with them," had been Edward's reason, though he assured me it rarely happened at random; usually, there was a trigger that prompted him to panic. And animal attack or not, I figured hearing about the latest slaughter of a group of people wasn't the best thing for him to discover.

To break up the somewhat uneasy air, Ben suddenly grabbed Angela's waist for the second time that evening. His act caused her to erupt with shrieking giggles, which were contagious, and I yelped as Edward walked up behind me and gave my hair a tug.

"You didn't give them a hit of something illegal, did you?" he asked jovially, handing us all a bottle of water.

Ben grinned. "Girls, man. These noises are built in."

We passed the time with walking and continued laughter, for which I was glad, and even a few of the games grabbed our attention. Angela and I tossed darts at balloons, making me think fondly of Mr. Miller, and the boys threw long-shot basketballs for bragging rights. Soon enough, it grew darker, the clouds fading from attractive to somewhat threatening, and we all made an unanimous decision to head out and try to beat the rain. I had my head on Edward's arm as we moved toward the exit, eyes closed, feeling warm and fuzzy from all the alcoholic indulgences, and I flinched as I felt someone's body smack into me.

"Oh, I'm sor-" I started to apologize, turning to face whoever I'd just collided with, and then fell silent. Of _course_, as fate would have it, it had to be Jessica 'My Boobs are Out All Night' Stanley. It was no wonder we'd bumped into each other; no one could walk straight with their chest swinging to and fro like that. "Sorry," I finished, hoping she would stalk away.

No such luck.

"Watch where you're going, klutz," she spewed, eyeing all of us as though we were covered in manure - especially me. "You could have knocked me over."

Edward placed his hand on my back, looking as though he wanted to say something particularly unpleasant, but settled for, "Still have that sparkling personality, Jessica? It's nice to see some things don't change."

"Yeah, unfortunately, some things just _don't _go away," she said with a fierce glower in my direction.

"Well, why don't you be the one to rectify that, then?" Angela said, surprising me with her bold tone of voice. Ben looked amused, and put his arm around her with a rather proud smile.

"Oh, wow," Jessica laughed, shifting her eyes between them. "You're with _Lamey Chaney? _Your taste in people is, like, _super_, Ang."

Ben pumped his fist to his chest in mock-stab motion, pretending to be wounded, and surprisingly, asked in a gentle voice, "How's it going, Jess?" Before she could answer, he added, "Looks like the pimp's been good to you."

I had to bury my face in Edward's arm to hide my sputtering guffaw since I did not have the luxury or protection of duct tape over my mouth. Then, I heard Jessica scoff. "Not as good as he's been to the little slut next to Edward."

_Oh, seriously? _She _wants to play Who's The Bigger Tramp?_

Sucking in a deep breath and directing my gaze toward her, all I could think of was ripping out her ponytail. My hands even trembled, wanting to cause her bodily harm, or at least a hair fiasco, and though I tried to calm myself, my vitriol cup was overflowing. "_Edward_," I said through gritted teeth. "Hold me back. I don't want to get arrested."

Though he failed in containing a laugh, he protectively clasped my hand and said with an air of irritation, "Jessica, get over yourself. Walk away."

She sneered. "Oh, Edward to the rescue, of course." She walked in front of Ben and Angela, closer to me, and I held my ground, not backing off. Ben mimicked pouring the contents of his water bottle over her head, and I almost nodded, daring him to do so before he took a sip. Clearly, Jessica thought she wasn't being the least bit pretentious, because she took one more step and pulled the hand-on-hip cliché, her fake fingernails digging into her leather pants and eyes blazing with contempt as she glared daggers at me. "This is one big fairy tale to you, huh, _princess?"_

I knew she really wasn't worth it, but I'd had quite enough of her fucking mouth. "Yeah, it's called Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Blow-It-Out-Your-Ass, bitch_."_

Water sprayed from Ben's mouth like a small volcanic eruption, narrowly missing Angela. She burst into laughter and hid behind Edward, who gaped at me in shock before breaking into the most adorable, rewarding smile I'd ever seen. I proudly turned away from a dumbfounded Jessica, whose mouth was wide open in anger, and squeezed Edward's hand. He quickly led me away before she could even think of a response.

"I can't believe you said that," he murmured, chuckling, as we continued walking. Ben and Angela followed closely behind us, still in hysterics.

"Black Magic makes me bold," I giggled to Edward as we neared the exit, and he paused to brush hair out of my eyes as Ben and Angela stopped to duck behind a phone booth, engaging themselves in a partly public lip-lock.

"Is that so?"

"Apparently," I said, interlocking my fingers with his and wanting to go somewhere private, away from everyone, so I could show him _how _bold. _But_, I had to pee. "Okay, do you mind being on bitch-watch while I go to the bathroom? I've had like… _four _drinks, and I feel like I might explode."

_Because bladder talk is so sexy, Swan. You rule._

"Sure. But wait, before you go…" He hooked his fingers through my belt loops, pulling me closer, and the way his thumbs grazed under the hem of my shirt made my skin blaze. _Again_, with the hands. The sweeping and tickling, the sweet trail of warmth over my stomach… it was electric. "Are you _really _not wearing underwear tonight? Or were you just saying that because you have on something else that's equally embarrassing, like My Little Pony?"

I pressed my lips into a tight line, shaking my head as he beamed in amusement. "Thin ice, pretty boy," I said, gently pushing him away and turning toward the public restrooms as I called over my shoulder, "And no ponies. Carebears. Hot pink, glittery ones that want to hug you."

I could still hear him laughing as I disappeared into the bathroom.

-:-

"Are you ready?" Edward asked, gripping my hand, steeling me for the obstacle we were about to face. This was serious business - we would only have a few seconds before being completely taken over by the enemy, more than we already had been.

I took a deep breath. "It's only … thirty feet."

"Maybe forty," Ben said, his voice serious.

Edward glanced at our destination again. "Or fifty."

Angela leaned over and gave me a small, one-armed hug and ruffled Edward's starkly wet hair. "Well, nice knowing you guys. Hope you make it out aliiiive." At the end of her words, she ruined the gravity of our situation with a slew of giggles.

In the few minutes it had taken me to go to the bathroom and wash my hands at the fair, the sky decided to open up and wreak havoc in the form of grape-sized raindrops. Ben had shouted over the raucous monsoon-like shower, claiming that he was sober and would drive - that his car was right around the corner - and we'd all scurried to the parking lot with the rest of the crowd. I was only kind of wet, mostly my jeans, but Edward was _drenched_. He, of course, had to be chivalrous and strip off his coat, holding it over _me _as we ran, which left him dripping wet… and drop-dead gorgeous. Now, we had no choice but to hightail it out of the car and into the lodge, and be poured upon, once again.

We said our goodbyes to Ben and Angela, and on Ben's comical count of "_One, two, three, go_!" we jumped out of the car and ran toward the front door. The torrent of water had just grown stronger, and I could barely see where I was going as I felt water rush over my face and seep down my neck. I screamed as lightning crisscrossed a patch of sky, and half-slid over a puddle before Edward grabbed my hand, preventing me from falling. We both practically crashed into the oversized bear statue as we got to the door, laughing hysterically.

"Thunderstorms in November?" I gasped as we paused under the awning, safe at last. For some reason, this was hysterical to me. "Where's the snow?"

He wiped a stream of rain out of his eyes. "In Antarctica, where the _penguins _play."

"_Hey_." I playfully grabbed his collar, but he shook his hair and sent beads of water flying into my face, making me shriek.

He opened the door for us, and I mock-pouted as he put his finger to his lips and gestured for me to hush, seeing as we were entering the Elderly Zone. We wiped our feet and shook our coats, trying to leave most of the rainwater on the floor mats instead of dragging it through the lobby. Despite our not-so-quiet entrance, most people were too wrapped up in their own conversations to pay attention to us. As usual, Doris was bustling about, calling out 'goodnight!' to retiring guests and flitting around her desk. It wasn't exactly a surprise when she noticed me and Edward, standing in the open doorway like two drowned rats, and yelled, "Lord-y be! Look at you two! Hurry up and come inside before you catch your deaths! Or get sizzled by that storm!"

I was hesitant, not wanting to drip all over her carpet, but she hurried over and grabbed both of us by the hand. "What a time of year for the angels to be bowling up above!" she exclaimed, pulling us further inside. "Come over here - I'll take your coats."

We handed them over, but not before Edward fished inside the lining of his, pulling out the bright yellow letter I'd written him and enclosing it in his fist.

"Something important, dear?" Doris asked him with kind eyes as she hung up our coats on a communal rack.

"I like to keep it close," he answered, giving me a small smile. The simple, sweet things that he did, like this, were the most responsible for making my heart pound in affection, not to mention causing a heat wave over my skin. And with my still semi-tipsy state, I hoped my floozy face wasn't showing too badly.

A grumble of thunder echoed throughout the room and Doris scrunched her face at the smallest flicker the lights gave. "Well, to be safe, you might want to keep one of these close, too," she said, reaching to grab from a pile of flashlights on her desk. She handed one to Edward, adding, "Just in case. Wouldn't want you kids to end up in the dark up on that top floor, all by yourselves!" She gave us a wink and I couldn't help the half-laugh, half-snort that came out of me. "In case the lights do go out, there's no need to worry - just stay put and be careful, dears!"

I smiled sheepishly, having a feeling that piece of advice was meant more for me than Edward.

"Oh, and I just put new towels in your rooms, so there should be plenty to help you dry off!" Doris continued. "So, scoot, before all that cold soaks to those young, healthy bones of yours!"

We obliged, waving a goodnight, and I snickered as we climbed the stairs. "You know, most of the time, I think of Doris like a grandmother," I thought aloud. "Only, it's weird … because she's like a grandmom who hopes I get laid."

Edward grinned. "Well, she did give us only one flashlight to share. I'll bet she thinks you already have."

Oh, Jesus. I laughed, unsure if I was more embarrassed or excited at the idea - though, it was more cringe-worthy to wonder if the whole lodge was already speculating on whether or not Edward and I were doing the horizontal hump. Probably. Most likely.

_Who are you kidding? Definitely_.

I grabbed onto Edward as we reached the fourth floor, feeling myself tilting sideways. "Whoa," I said, falling face-first into his chest. He caught me, clutching me tightly as I whined and giggled. "I'm such a lightweight."

"You hide it well," he said, pressing his lips to my hair. "Do you feel all right?"

I felt fan-fucking-tastic. "Mm-hmm." I stayed pressed against his wet shirt, slowly breathing in a scent of rainwater and amber, of him. It wasn't long before his hands brushed the back of my neck, coaxing me to look up, and took a hold of my face. I moved, feeling my back press into the plane of the wall as his mouth found mine, sweet and soft. Even better was the pressure of his hips right over my stomach, leaning and teasing, and I curled my fists into the back of his shirt like little bundles of want.

A thought struck me then, one that I'd been waiting for, one that was both anxious and exciting. We were alone, now. It was later - hours later - and we were tucked away on the highest floor, away from everyone else. And we were kissing. And my hands had found their way under his shirt, somehow. I didn't remember doing it, but there they were, sliding up his back, which was cool and damp from the rain. As I brought him closer, warmth grew under my fingertips and palms like a layer of sun, and he made a sound, a hum of encouragement before sweeping his tongue against mine, tasting like spice and candy. I felt light and eager, and if I wasn't so caught up the invigorating pull his mouth had on me, I would have been panting impatiently into his neck, begging for him to lower his hips, my breath hot on his skin… wait.

Oh, my God. _Your breath_.

I quickly slipped my hand between our lips, suddenly a lot more sober and very, very aware of the slight acidic taste on the back of my tongue. I was kissing him with after-alcohol breath, and that was gross. It was hard to notice, seeing as how he tasted so good, so sweet… while I was likely reeking of a bar rag.

"I taste like alcohol," I explained to his quizzical face, and closed my mouth to contain whatever I might smell like. _Twenty-four hour lasting, fresh breath, huh, Crest toothpaste? Twenty-four hour _lies_!_

Edward cracked a smile."You taste good," he replied, lowering his head to suck the hollow of my throat before bringing his lips back to mine.

I resisted, now unbelievably self-conscious. "You're being polite." Even so, I couldn't believe I'd stopped. Who on earth would ever cut short a hip-hugging kiss of perfection? Bella Butterlips, that's who.

He narrowed his eyes, pouting his lips a bit and looking absolutely delectable. Lickable. Fuckable, too, but I'd completely spoiled the moment that might have directly led to that fantasy. "So … you'd like a moment to brush your teeth? Or, are you trying to say goodnight?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, no - it's… I just… Yes. Toothpaste. I need some."

What I needed was a punch in the face. Or a _brain_.

"Are you sure?"

I reached to tangle my fingers in his hair, afraid I'd hurt his feelings or that I was coming across like a complete buzz kill. We'd already had the very quick, non-detailed confession that neither of us were virgins, so at least he knew _that _wasn't an issue. "I'd rather kiss you with fresh breath… not _drunk tongue_. How did you manage to taste like sugar after all we had to drink?"

He shrugged and tapped his lingering fingers on my waist. "Gum? Good hygiene?" I lightly shoved his chest and he laughed, breaking away and hunching his shoulders. "It's okay, we should change, anyway. You want to come over and hang out after you deodorize your mouth?"

"You are not as cute as you think you are," I said, joking, making him smirk. "I'll have to think about it."

"Sure, you do that," he teased back and bent to retrieve the flashlight and letter he must have dropped in our moment of kissy-kissy, then reached into his pocket for his keys. He disappeared behind the wooden frame with one last flash of his pretty, white teeth, and I took a moment to breathe. '_Come over and hang out_.' This was going to be a pivotal evening, all right. At least, I thought so. I just hoped I wouldn't embarrass the hell out of myself.

As soon as I entered my bathroom, I quickly peeled off my wet clothes and hung them on the edge of the bathtub. I turned my attention to the towels and sighed heavily, smiling as I pressed my face into the first one I grabbed, the scent of lemon fresh in the fibers. It was like improvised perfume as I scrubbed my hair and body dry, smirking at the thought of Edward doing the same.

Honestly, I was feeling more and more steady as the minutes passed, but, just in case, I brushed my teeth with my elbows on the sink, not trusting myself to stand up straight without staggering sideways and crash-landing my bare ass in the porcelain tub. It was enough to try not to be startled by the ever-increasing thunder. The sky seemed to be at war, raging from above with loud cracks and roars, as if boulders were splitting. If this kept up all night, I had no idea how Edward and I would manage to sleep.

I walked back into the bedroom and bent to rummage in one of my bags for a tank top, and all of a sudden, there was a low hum and a crackle of spark outside the window. I yelped, jerking back and barely managing to grab the edge of my bed before I fell over. Then, the lights went out.

"Shit," I whispered aloud, darting my eyes back and forth in the darkness. I stood still, listening for sounds on the other side of the wall, but all I heard was the pattering of the water pipes. Deciding to go over to his room, anyway, I started toward the door before realizing I was still naked. "_Shit_," I said again, pulling the tank top over my head and ducking down, feeling along the floor for my bag with lightning as a two-second aid. I blindly grabbed what felt like underwear and yanked them on, and another ear-splitting boom of thunder made me jump.

Carefully, slow enough so I wouldn't bump into the wall or stub my toe on anything, I made my way to the door. I decided to leave it unlocked since I didn't feel like doing a blind man's search for the key, and stepped out into the pitch black hallway. I felt my way in the dark, finally reaching the railing. I couldn't hear anything, but paused anyway, looking in what I thought was the direction of the staircase. I wondered if I should go down to the lobby to see if Doris needed help, even if she did say to stay in our rooms.

"_Boo_."

I screamed so loud, I hurt my own ears. Flailing my arms like a spinning sprinkler, I made sharp contact with something hard and instantly jumped backwards. I was still pretty off-balance from the leftover alcohol swimming in my system; the leap made me topple sideways and land on my ass.

"Bella, it's _me!"_

_Edward_, playing ghost-in-the-hallway. "Edward!" I cried. "God _damn it_, you scared me!"

He was in complete hysterics, and I wished it wasn't so dark so I could see his face. He felt for me, his hands bumping my chin and pulling my arms until I was off the floor and standing upright.

"Are you - are you okay? I'm s-sorry, I'm -" He was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe. "I couldn't help it."

"You are _not _funny!" I hissed, pushing him away and completely failing to contain a fit of giggles.

"I'm hi_la_rious." Edward was much stronger than I, and easily locked his arms across my chest, keeping me from escaping as he continued cackling like a madman.

"If I have rug burn on my ass, I'm going to punch you," I muttered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, secretly loving the struggle. Then I froze momentarily, feeling a smooth brush of heat against my shoulders: bare skin. _Oh, lord… he's not wearing a shirt_.

Once he caught his breath and was only slightly chuckling, he let me go and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry, really. Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, just my ego." I turned around and pinched his side for good measure, making him squirm, and smiled, even though he couldn't see me. "But you just wait. I'll get you back."

"Ha," he said, ruffling my hair. "I'm getting _you _back, actually. You scared the hell out of me, once, in the dark. Down in the lobby - you called my name and I almost knocked over a bookcase. Remember?"

I snorted. "Barely. What, have you been plotting vengeance this whole time?"

"Old habits die hard," he remarked lightly. Another clap of thunder made me flinch and he slipped his hand into mine. "Come on, let's go get the flashlight."

We headed for his room, both of us feeling the wall and door before going through it. I walked sightlessly in the direction of the bed and climbed atop the covers as Edward fished around, finally locating the flashlight and clicking it on. The light was bright white, casting a faux-moonlit illumination in the shadows, but before I could ogle his shirtless chest, I laughed aloud when I realized what he was wearing.

Leprechaun boxers.

"Oh, well, top of the morning to _you_," I giggled.

"Yeah, you should talk," he said with a grin, pointing the flashlight at my lower half. Lo and behold, the pair of underwear I'd unseeingly grabbed and slid up onto my ass was none other than my penguin-printed panties.

I instinctively yanked my tank top as down as far as it would go, which wasn't much, and was now in double disbelief, seeing that I'd forgotten to put on a pair of shorts. "Uh … touché." I crossed my legs and grabbed a pillow, shielding my little flightless birds from the dim light.

Edward set the flashlight right-side-up on the brick sill, above the fireplace, and glanced over his shoulder. "I was thinking of lighting a fire… unless you want to play shadow puppets," he said wittily.

Smiling, I hooked my thumbs and flapped my fingers like wings. "This is all I have to offer, so a fire is fine with me." He crouched down to the front of the hearth and I clambered over to the edge of the bed to watch. "I'd offer to help, but… I'd probably just get splinters and ignite the carpet."

"Not too many heavy winters in Phoenix and Jacksonville, huh?" he asked, sliding open the glass doors and dividing the wire mesh curtains, pushing them off to the sides. "Jumping into a swimming pool instead of hoarding firewood… must have been brutal."

I could _feel _his teasing smile, even though I couldn't see it. "It _was_," I played along, unfolding my legs and letting them dangle from the mattress. "Once, I even got sunburn on Christmas Eve."

He chuckled as he reached for the small woodpile to his left and lifted a bulky, splintered piece onto the open grate. "I'm jealous. A few years ago, I was outside for fifteen minutes and got frostbite."

"_Fifteen minutes_?" I slid off the bed, bringing half of the comforter with me and wrapping it around my shoulders. I knelt beside him, watching him blow a piece of hair away from his eye as he placed another log into the fireplace. Distance of any kind, even a few feet between us, felt like too much, and I couldn't stop scooting closer.

He nodded, beginning to tear bits of newspaper and stuffing the pieces under the wood. "Mm-hmm. Maybe less. It was twenty below, and I didn't realize my hat had a tear. I still have a scar on my ear."

I bit my lip, wanting to reach and find the scar he was talking about, to trace it with my fingertip. Any of his imperfections would be beautiful, I was sure of it. "What were you doing outside when it was twenty below freezing?" I asked, incredulous. I had been raised in temperatures that rarely dipped below the forties, and that was in the dead of winter; if I'd been in his position, I would have died of shock.

He turned to look at me, and his signature quirky smile was contagious. "Well, when your car's under two feet of snow, it's easier to take the L*."

Leaning back on my heels, I grinned. "That sounds like so much fun."

He made a sputtering sound of amusement. "Fun?" he echoed. "What, freezing to death, or public transportation?"

I playfully rolled my eyes. "The _snow_. I've never played in it before. Not even here - I was always back home when Charlie called to tell me he was snowbound."

"You might see some here," Edward said optimistically. "If we stay long enough… well, if you decide to."

I nodded. That was a talk for another time. I couldn't think about that, yet - how long I could possibly postpone going back to Florida… and how I could ask him to come with me. Determined not to slip into tricky conversation, I let the comforter fall to the floor and moved behind him. I leaned on his back and rested my hands on his shoulders as I surveyed his practiced arrangement of the wood. "You're good at this," I said, feeling stupid making such an obvious comment, but I felt the need to fill the silence.

"I've had a lot of practice. I grew up with these," he said, layering the wood and paper with smaller bits of kindling. "When it snowed, I used to come inside and curl up in front of mine to thaw out."

I chuckled. "Like a puppy?"

He stacked two more pieces of wood on top of the pile and blew out his breath. "Exactly. And this," he said, and brushing splinters off his hands, "is like riding a bike. I could probably set up one of these with my eyes closed."

He played piano with those hands. He built fires with those hands. He caused me fanatical waves of heat and desire with one simple caress with those hands, and as if to prove it, he reached back and gently stroked my cheek, clearly amused at my interest. His touch was the perfect combination of rough and smooth and man, and it took a bit of willpower on my part to not pull his hand about six inches lower.

I sat to the side as he reached for the matches and struck a flame, igniting the paper and wood. Slowly, the blaze raised and crackled, radiating with warmth and spreading a vivid amber glow across the room. The newfound light painted our skin with golden apricot light, and _that _was when I really noticed his body. His every curve, every ripple of muscle was highlighted and beautiful, like handsomely carved marble basking in sunlight. The finishing touch - the cherry and sprinkles of it all - was when he leaned close to the hearth and gently blew on the flames, causing them to flicker and spark, and grow. As he sat back and let out a breath, he looked so comfortable and lovely, and satisfied… _God_. I'd never wished so much for a camera as I did right then.

"What?" he asked, a smile in his voice, as he caught me staring.

"I…" _I kind of love you. Minus the kind of. _I ended up shaking my head and pulling at the ends of my hair, feeling gooseflesh rise over my arms. "I get lost sometimes when I look at you, that's all."

"Oh … I'm sorry," he said, as if he'd actually done something wrong. Silly boy.

"Too many 'I'm sorry's' today," I said, playfully shaking my head. "I think you owe me."

Edward reached for my hands, pulling me closer, and I edged toward him, settling myself just inside his bent knees. "What would you like?" he asked, running his hands over my arms, causing my goosebumps to multiply.

I could have filled a slot machine with the ideas that simple question created; although, knowing me, it would have had to be renamed a _slut _machine. "Mm… another vacation," I teased. "Somewhere cold, with snow… and real Christmas trees. I want to make a snowman."

"Did my frostbite story not scare you enough?" He was still tugging on my hands. He slid his legs under mine and allowed me to sit.

"Where would you like to go, then?" I asked. I could feel the air sweep by our skin, the coolness of the room mixed with the waves of heat from the fire. There was still a gap between us. I wanted to close it.

"Somewhere where the drinks have umbrellas."

Positioning my knees on the outside of his hips, I lightly sat back on his thighs and traced his collarbone with the pads of my fingers. "Anywhere in particular?"

"It depends," he said, rubbing the small of my back and gazing into my eyes, which pinned me in place and made my soul shiver. "Are you coming with me?"

I wet my lips and scooted forward, only inches from introducing our little cartoon clothing. Blood was stirring and pulsing inside my body, and I could feel it everywhere. An electric shock, dulled from pain, to pleasure. "What would the difference be?"

"Without you, it would just be a beach." His voice was rough and crisp, warm, like the sparking embers crackling beside us. "With you… paradise."

One moment, I was staring into his green, gold-flecked eyes, and the next, I couldn't see, my lids having fluttered and crashed. I was against him, kissing and trembling, and loving with my heart, my mouth, my soul. He gasped as I broke away to grab fistfuls of his hair, and he pushed his hand against my hip, holding me back.

"Bella…" he said, sounding short of breath. "We don't have to do this, you know. I - I don't want you to feel … obligated, or…"

I slowly shook my head, trying to tell him, urge him that I had just been neurotic, earlier, when I'd pulled away to brush my teeth. I wasn't afraid of this, or him. "No, I want this. I want you."

God, his smile, his face…. A man so breathtaking, he was the reason why poetry was written, why music played, why the sun rose. He was life, in and out.

"Are you sure you don't want to take it slow?" He spoke faintly, and I could tell I was wearing him down. I pushed past his hands and slipped my fingertips under his waistband, slowly sliding my hand across his stomach. His inhale was like music, and the fabric and folds of our clothes were not enough to block the heat that was between us, or hide the fact that there were parts of him that were _very _much alive and well.

I was suddenly short of breath, too.

"Slow's hard," I whispered. _Nice choice of words, Slick. _"D-difficult."

"Yeah." His voice came out choked and he cleared his throat, the sound almost covered by the outside thunder, grumbling and rolling in echoing waves. It took a moment, but I finally felt his hands fold against my spine, each fingertip a different pressure.

"I trust you. I'm not scared," I insisted, leaning to kiss his neck, tasting and breathing him in. I felt amateurish, yet bold as I trailed my tongue under his ear, unpracticed but devoted. I wanted him to want me, too.

He answered me with curled fingers that slipped under my shirt. He pulled, and the fabric bunched and caught my chin before stretching over my face, over my head, making us equal. Bare. It took a simple brush of his hand against my ribs, a rock of my hips, and we were locked in a moment of harmony, of braided longing.

My stomach tightened as I moved again, muscles of mine and his throbbing under me, and I barely trapped a sound of unbridled hunger behind my lips. "You trust me?"

Edward nodded, his chest hot under my palm, vibrating with his heartbeat. I felt flushed as his eyes skimmed my body, letting his knuckles stroke over my navel, up to my chest. "Of course."

At long last, he leaned to kiss me, connecting our skin and lifting me towards the spilled blanket on the floor. I became lost in his arms, grasping his neck and letting my head hang back as he touched and circled spots that were both tender and craving attention. This had to be what it felt like to defy gravity: the anticipation of leaving the ground, heart pounding, adrenaline rising, and fiercely holding onto whatever was taking you higher. With slight pulls and quick tugs, we eventually uncovered our last bits of pajamas and kicked them to the side. The brilliant flickers of amber-orange light provided us teasing glimpses of one another, and he was exquisite, superlative, and I couldn't even find a moment to be shy, or self-conscious, because…

"Wait," Edward said suddenly, and slipped the little, black hair band off his wrist, the one piece of me he always wore. He reached up and nimbly lifted the curtain of curls that had fallen into my face, capturing my thick strands in the twisted confines of the holder. "You're beautiful. I want to see all of you."

His words, his tone, his heart - all perfect and wonderful - and his _hands. _Like melted chocolate, they were smooth, gentle, and slow, skimming the curve of my bottom, the hollow of my legs. I couldn't conjure my voice. Instead, I crushed my lips to his, hooking my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the small of his back, connecting us.

"_God,_" he breathed, and I moaned as he rubbed against me, making me swell and sweat and _ache_. I rose up, down, giving and taking, and feeling him between me. Hard. Hot. "_Please_," I whispered in return, not above begging to have more.

I clenched his shoulders and sucked under his jaw, waiting, and my action was enough to persuade him. The storm outside was clipped with electricity, but I was on fire, too, as he filled me, fusing us with passion and fever.

Like a slow increase of volume, his stroke and motion accelerated, sang in sweeps of his thigh brushing my hips, in the way his breath echoed in my ear. There was a fiery need for the push and pressure, and we folded and pleaded in touches and whispers. His teeth were rough on my bottom lip and my fingers dug, scratched the blades of his shoulders, and short gasps and low moans created a symphony of need, of absolute pleasure.

As we moved together, I was heartily aware of the slow dip of his hand, fondling in circles between my legs, and it only took seconds before I was lost in the moment.

On the brink.

On my back.

_Oh, my God._

He lowered himself to me, kissing and nibbling my neck, and as my hands dug into his lower spine, the moan that came out of his mouth made me come apart. My back arched and rose with my hips, and the world spun, colors blended, and the earth shattered in pieces of gratification. I trembled as I calmed, panting in short sighs, and looked up at Edward. I had the added bonus of seeing his face before he came, his eyes closed, mouth parted, tinted in firelight…

He was magnificent. He was mine.

His body strained and shuddered, and he gasped as I tightened my rubbery legs around him, relishing in the feel of his release. Soon after, he lay on top of me, completely breathless. I drew my fingers through his hair, not having the strength to speak, to thank him properly for the mind-blowing experience he'd just given me. He was quiet, too, except for the sound of his breath, but then he lifted his head and kissed my breast, my collarbone, moving up in small pecks until he found my mouth. His lips were still blazing, branding me.

"Thank God we're on a floor where no one can hear us," he said hoarsely, cracking a smile.

I giggled, making him shake on top of me, and pulled his head to rest on my shoulder. "That was amazing. I haven't done that since…" _July, to a pillow._ "It doesn't matter. You… just…" I refrained from saying something cheesy, Disney-princess-like, such as '_It was everything I imagined it to be and more' _and chose to kiss him, instead. I rubbed his back, gently trailing my fingertips along his shoulders before I noticed a few, small welts. "Oh, my _God_. I scratched you."

"Yes, you did," he laughed, sighing into my neck.

I wriggled under him, trying to get a better look. "I'm so _sorry_."

"I'm not." Edward pushed himself up and brought me with him, silencing my apologies and protests with his hand. He positioned his back against the bed, facing the fireplace, and trapped me against him, wrapping us in the comforter. I could hear the chuckle in his voice as he said, "Shh. Don't fight me. I'm stronger, and if we're going to have a Round Two, you'll need the energy."

If there was anything to _not _protest against, _that _was it. Feeling quite obedient all of a sudden, I relaxed, laying my head against his chest and tangled a fist in his hair. "Deal."

Minutes passed as we sat, our sweat cooling, but still warm in front of the fire. I stuck my feet toward the grate, watching as licking flames narrowly missed my toes, and I sighed, pulling his arms tightly across my chest, leaning my head against him. The soft folds of blankets and my cheek against his warm skin were comforting, and he felt like home.

His lips brushed against my ear and in a mellow, sweet voice, he said, "I love you, you know."

I blinked, staring into the dancing firelight with wide eyes before I slowly turned my head. My head bumped his chin as I gazed at him in surprise, asking with a parted mouth and raised brows if I had heard correctly.

"I know," he breathed with a soft exhale, avoiding my eyes. "It feels so soon to say. But it's not the first time I've wanted to tell you … and definitely not the first time I've thought it."

I reached for him, gliding my fingertips across his cheek, and his eyes found mine in seconds, flickers of fire mirrored in such gorgeous green, under dark lashes. "But I do. I love you."

My thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, full-to-bursting of surprise and affection, and when he started to tell me I didn't have to say it back - because I _knew _those were the words on the tip of his tongue - I twisted, kneeling in front of him, and stilled him with another kiss.

"I don't just love you, too," I said, finally breaking away and looking him straight in the eyes. "I _have _loved you. It's like you said - it's been in the back of my mind for a long time. I was just too afraid to say it out loud, before… though, after tonight, I probably would have had more confidence." I smiled, finally, feeling as though my lips couldn't stretch far enough. "But I love you. So much."

He was watching me so intensely, so many emotions present on his face, in his eyes, like a beautiful work of art. "You love me?" he repeated, his lips starting to curve, to grow into that adorable, gorgeous, crooked grin of his.

Nodding, I pulled the back of his neck until our mouths were inches apart. "I love you."

I never would have thought it possible, but Round Two was even better than Round One. Afterward, we were sweaty, and sticky, and he read my mind as he whispered close to my ear, "Shower?"

We lit candles and placed them along the sink and toilet, creating another iridescent, ocher atmosphere, and the steam from the shower transformed into an orange mist. In the middle of Edward shampooing my hair, the lights flickered, and came back on as though they'd never been off. I wiped soap out of my eyes and sighed, a little sad that our blackout was over.

"It was fun while it lasted," I murmured in disappointment, drawing a smiley face on the fogged glass.

Edward slid the shower door open and stretched his hand along the wall, giving me a playful smile. "It doesn't have to be over."

With that, he flicked off the light.

-:-

* * *

Long (sorry) A/n:

*The "L" is what Chicagoans call the public transit system - AKA the Subway, the Metro, the Tube, etc.

I seriously sent this text to queenofgrey: "I might be finished writing Edvard sex in 20. Read it for me? Tell me if anything sounds cheesy, or is too much? I'm scared Jes. Hold me." Lmfao. Smut has always been my biggest fear to write (fear of fucking it up, that is) so hopefully it was satisfying to those of you who were waiting so patiently. ;) Also, I know a lot of you are also anxious for vampires. But I kind of wanted to let Bella & Edward get a little hot and heavy before they encounter the rest of the fangies. (Yeah, I know SM's don't have them, but I like to pretend they do - retractable and hidden behind their molars. Just let me dream, m'kay?)

I'm honestly not sure about the alcohol policy in Washington State during public events, but for the sake of this chapter, I probably broke liquor laws. But eh - the beauty of fiction. ;) Oh, a Black Magic is usually a drink made with coffee liquer and lime juice; the hot chocolate version is lesser-known, but it exists. Promise. ;) Also, I know it was months (and months) ago, but when Bella was reminded of Mr. Miller at the balloon-dart game, it was from his story of how he once worked at a carnival, in charge of that same game. It's back in chapter 20. Yeah, I'm aware that my chapters are in need of constant footnotes. My footnotes probably need footnotes, too.

Oh, music, anyone? "Phenomena" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs; "Everything is Moving So Fast" by Great Lake Swimmers; "Hot Like Fire" by The xx (goes well with the "fire/floor" scene); "Heartbeats" by José Gonzáles. Go nuts.

Recs, if you're looking for something awesome to read: "Sins of the Piano Man" by solareclipses -it's a story of vampy Edward & human Bella that's lovely, witty, and original; and "Once More, With Feeling" by WhatsMyNomDePlume - it's supernatural/comedy/romance, and B&E are paranormal investigators. FBI. Good times. I love it so much. And I could fangirl over both of these girls all day. But I won't, because you're going to leave this page and go read their stories… right? RIGHT?

Oh, and, you know… thank you for reading mine. *sheepish, humble shuffle of my shoes* I sucked incredibly at answering reviews last time, so I promise to be better this round! (Though, I won't have internet in my condo until the 8th! Expect replies starting then!) But I'd hug you all if I could.

(P.S. For the record, I love Crest toothpaste. I use it. No offense, Crest reps. It was for the sake of humor.)


	30. Distant Dark Places Pt 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, there would be no such phrase as "Holy crow!" No, no, no.

So, uh, I know I'm ridiculously late with this and the "real life" excuse seems redundant, but reality bit me pretty hard and I was like this: http:/hyperboleandahalf[dot]blogspot[dot]com/2010/05/sneaky-hate-spiral[dot]html, and spent next to no time writing. (Do I get brownie points for honesty?) My humble apologies, guys… AKA: I suck and I'm sorry. But thank you to those who have been so patient and for the kind reviews, PMs, tweets, etc. You guys make me remember the fun I should be having! Also, xoxo to AltheaJams, who was so incredibly sweet and rec'd me on the Fic Pushin' Podcast. Those ladies have a great show, so go give them a listen!

Brain-refresher: A handful of people have said they've forgotten what Bella's deal with Phil was all about. It's back in Chapter 8 (eons ago, right?) and their issue was this: he sexually assaulted Bella, mistaking her concern for a come-on. Just thought I'd add this before you read, because it's mentioned in this chapter.

(You guys don't need a recap, do you? They did it by the fireplace. Haha.)

xoxo

-:-

The in between of midnight and morning had become my favorite. In the early hours, when I would wake and check to see if the slight glow of dawn had yet kissed the windowpane… those were the moments for which I held a special spot. This time, the smallest lines of grey light had outlined the curtains and I drowsily peered from my side of the bed, trying to determine whether or not the sun was on its way up or if it was simply moonlight from the night that hadn't yet faded. Today, I didn't want to welcome the sun; I wanted the overcast clouds and misty drizzle to stick around. I wanted the cold breeze and damp climate to encompass the environment again, and if it wanted to snow, I'd welcome that, too. Because, selfishly, I wanted a reason to stay inside all day. Actually, if I was being honest, I wanted a reason to stay in _bed _all day.

Another two weeks had passed and intuitively, I felt like my time at the lodge was coming to a close. Renée and Charlie's calls always ended with questions of when I was returning home, with sensible voices reminding me that I couldn't stay on vacation forever. So, naturally, I wanted to savor every moment I had left: the feel of the pillows under my head, the warmth of the fireplace, the polished walls, the earthy atmosphere. Every minute in this room, especially with the view I had at the moment, needed to be etched into my memory and cherished.

Blinking through my sleepy haze, I smiled lazily at the sight of Edward beside me, tangled and wrapped in the rumpled blankets, perfectly still and serene in the shadows. For whatever reason, I'd developed a habit of waking around this time. It never lasted long, seeing as I wasn't quite a morning person, but I figured it was my subconscious wanting to do some early-hour ogling. I reached over and gently combed my fingers through his hair, making him stir a bit. He breathed deeply, humming indistinctly into his pillow, and I waited to see if he would scrunch his face and slip back into consciousness. He didn't.

_Good. Perfect timing_.

Feeling sneaky, but telling myself that it was okay (I wasn't a weirdo stalker now that we loved each other), I reached to the bedside table and picked up my phone; before he could move, I snapped his picture. The rest of my phone was in need of serious medical/technological attention, but somehow (miraculously) the flash camera still worked. I added the picture to my little folder of Edward, consisting of random shots I'd taken. Some were candid, when he was reading or playing the piano; some planned, when I asked him to smile or imitate the bear statue by the front door. All were blithe. All were beautiful.

I had the idea in the back of my mind that I could make an album when I got home - maybe fill a page or two - and give it to him as something we could add on to, later. Maybe it was girly of me… but I was optimistic for the future and I wanted him to know without only words to express it. After a few more minutes of watching him sleep, I felt a heavy, nagging pressure behind my eyes that begged me to do the same.

_Too early. Try again later, _they pleaded.

Edward's slightly outstretched arm called to me and I snuggled closer to him, cocooning us deeper into the comforter until everything was warmth and cotton. My cheek against his shoulder and his breath on my hair…

I could have sworn I only closed my eyes for ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. But suddenly, someone's hand was kneading behind my neck and whispered words were tickling my ear. "Are you awake? Bella?"

I made a noise, trying to refrain from flailing and smacking the sleep-intruder.

"Wake up. The sun's out." Edward's voice. Realizing it was him made my fists uncurl, but he sounded way too excited - too _awake_.

"No, it's not," I argued huskily, flinching at the growing brightness behind my eyelids and burying my head under my pillow. "You're just dreaming. It's dark. It's nighttime. Go back to sleep."

My shadowy sanctuary was suddenly stolen, ripped away, allowing lamplight and _sun_light to assault my eyes. I moaned in protest, but Edward laughed. "It's time to get _up_," he said, proceeding to rub my back, presumably trying to make up for just batting away my attempt to hold onto peace and quiet.

"Nuh-uh," I said, muffled, as I had a mouthful of mattress. "What time is it?"

"Five after nine."

Well, damn. The sun had to have been up for at least two hours. I hated that it only felt like five minutes.

"I have something for you," he coaxed, his fingers tracing shapes on my back.

I grunted again. "It'd better be pancakes. And a bucket of coffee."

"It's me - of course there will be coffee," he said, leaning down and kissing my neck, leaving a trail of tingles up to my ear.

"That's not helping to get me _out _of bed, you know," I told him, reaching for the scruff of his shirt and cracking open my eyes. He was already dressed for the day, looking effortlessly preened. "I'll do naughty things to you if you let me have another hour."

He chuckled and pulled my hands, lifting me to sit up straight. "You shouldn't make promises when you're half asleep."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes and shifting my gaze around the room. Indeed, there was a fair amount of light coming from the windows. Damn it. "You were the one who promised we were going to sleep in," I whined sleepily. It was true. We'd exhausted ourselves in the best ways imaginable the night before, and it was one of the last things he'd said before drifting off in the middle of a sentence. "Why are you up so early?"

"Well, for starters, you were trying to grope me in your sleep again a little before six."

That must have been after I'd gone back to sleep - and it definitely could have been true. The little, slutty sneaks that I called hands had picked up the habit of reaching over for Edward whenever I was in the land of Nod. One morning, we'd both woken up to my entire arm inside his shirt. Thankfully, my hands had never subconsciously found their way into his _pants_. I doubted he would have complained, but my standards had to draw the line at unconsciously playing with the boy parts.

"And then you started talking about tuna fish," he continued, amused. "And pie. And you made me hungry."

"Gross," I giggled, a bit of my grogginess fading away as I picked up a pillow and playfully smacked him with it. He grinned, looking as striking as always, and I was sure that the golden rays of sun that were filtering through the forest trees had nothing on the beauty of his eyes. "So… are you going to give me a hint, or is this like a scavenger hunt?"

He chuckled. "Just get dressed. You don't have to shower or anything. Maybe put on some pants." Of course, as he said this, he skimmed his hand along the bottom of my shirt, resting it on my hip and pressing his thumb into the crease of my thigh.

"Like I said… youare _not _helping me see the good of getting up. Or putting on clothes."

I moved, straddling my legs over his lap and reaching to dishevel his for-once tidy hair, and tried not to immediately rock my hips with enthusiasm. I hadn't felt this insatiable about something since first tasting chocolate chip banana bread, but the feel of him, inside and out, surpassed everything else; he was sweeter, warmer, and much more fulfilling. And mostly, being together required _burning _calories, not consuming them. The win-win was downright remarkable.

Breathing deeply, I momentarily rested my head on his shoulder before gazing up curiously. "Why do you smell like cake mix?"

He shrugged. "Not telling." He moved to kiss me, but I pulled back, shaking my head.

"Not yet. I-"

"Right. Need your toothpaste," he said, used to my paranoia by now. "Go on before I convince you to stay." He lifted me off the bed, planted a quick kiss on my lips before I could stop him, and tugged on my shirt… well, one of his. "Do I get this back?"

"I don't know," I teased. So far, I'd captured three of his shirts, not including the first one he'd given me. "I might add this to my collection."

He sighed, glancing toward the dresser. "I'm going to be shirtless by Thanksgiving."

"No complaints from me," I laughed, reaching to pull a pair of jeans from one of the drawers that he was kind enough to let me share. Every now and then, we slept in my room, but on most nights his room was the preferred choice (I now had a special attachment to the fireplace), so I'd kept a few changes of clothes in the dresser. It may or may not have had to do with the shared shower time, too. "Jeans are okay, right? You're not going to make me run again, are you?"

"Don't worry, I already got that out of the way," he answered, chuckling under his breath as he remade the bed.

He'd pulled me out of bed like this before, only to plead with me to go for an early-morning jog with him. A few times, I begrudgingly agreed, thinking that he'd probably get a kick out of watching me run around like a wheezing monkey with flailing limbs - which he had. It was more fun to let him get ahead and watch the action from _behind_ - the swish of his shorts and shape of his ass and muscles, and… well, I couldn't say it was overall terrible. But most of the time, I convinced him to go alone, to clear his head. For him, running was therapeutic, medicinal - letting him focus his energy and thoughts into something that made sense, that was familiar to him, mind and body. He remarked several times that he felt better after doing so and not only did it show in his physique, but he had a sort of vibrancy that sparked in his eyes, in everything that he did. It was contagious and I couldn't have been more happy for, or proud of him.

When I'd shyly pointed out how well he seemed to be doing, Edward remained humble, simply giving me a curl of a smile or saying something melt-worthy like, "I wonder who could be my inspiration." After conversations such as those, no matter what actions we took - whether it was merely entwining our fingers together for a few moments or falling into bed to pant and tremble, inciting pleasure and love into each other, our connection grew. We were a breathing restoration, a tattered piece of art coming to life again. By no means were we a masterpiece, but we weren't trying to be. Just the chance to experience color in our previous black-and-white felt like a sort of grace.

After I played wash-and-brush in the bathroom, he took my hand and led me down the stairs and into the lobby. Doris barely had time to call out a warmhearted "Hello dears!" before Edward ushered me through the café and into the kitchen. Before I could ask him what he was doing, he grasped my hips and lifted me to sit on the counter.

"Close your eyes," he said, softly covering my lashes with his hand. "And open your mouth."

_Ha. Haaaa._

I couldn't fight a giggle and Edward snorted. "You little pervert," he laughed. "Tom's just outside the back door. And there's hot oil on the stove. Like I'd take either of those chances."

"I didn't say anything." I heard some rustling, followed by a scraping sound. Silverware?

"Then stop smiling and open up."

"You'd better not be feeding me a tablespoon of cinnamon or anyth- mmph." I was cut short as a forkful of something silenced me. I stilled, trying to figure out what kind of mushy substance had just invaded my mouth. Well, not completely mushy… there was something sort of crispy on the bottom. It was sweet and light, whatever it was, like cinnamony, nutty mashed potatoes with a delicate crunch.

"Like it?" Edward asked.

I opened my eyes. "Mm, yeah. Is this pie?"

"Your dad's favorite," he said, gesturing to the right side of the counter where a slice of golden-orange pie sat, missing the tip of the triangle. Ah - sweet potato.

"Now I know why," I said, already craving another bite. "This is _so _good."

"Guess who made it?"

I finished chewing and eyed him curiously. "_You _made a pie?"

"Well, I helped. Tom gave me simple things to do so I didn't burn down the place," he said, looking slightly proud of himself. "And I know _every _ingredient. By heart."

I'd started to smile, but it fell short as I realized what he was saying. "What-" I sternly creased my eyebrows, gaping. "_No_. You know the _secret _ingredient? There's no way."

"Secret ingredi_ents_, actually." He grinned so stunningly, the smallest bit of a smirk present, and I knew he wasn't kidding. "Would you like your coffee, now?"

Tom chose the next moment to walk inside the kitchen and I turned to him, my mouth still wide and slack-jawed, and pointed to the pie. "I've helped you cook for over a month! _He_-" I paused to grab Edward's face, "helps you for _one morning_ and you tell him your pie secrets?"

Tom chuckled, tossing his hands in the air. "What can I say, Bella? He's a cunning one. He asked me a few questions and I let 'em slip like a shoe in Crisco. Would've thought he'd gone to law school."

I rolled my eyes and Edward looked smug, as if to say '_I'm that good_'. "That is not even fair," I said as they both shared a laugh. "One of you will tell me, though, right?"

"Sure, honey, don't worry," Tom said, reaching for an omelet pan. "If you can coax Edward to let you in the know."

Oh, so this was a male-bonding, secret-keeping thing.

"It's really not that complicated," Edward said, nonchalant. Tease.

"Do you know how many years I've spent trying to replicate that pie? I'm going to pinch you until you tell me." I reached for his waist but he grabbed my wrists and held me at bay.

"We'll see," he said as I struggled. "Are you going to finish your piece? It's not everyday you get dessert for breakfast. And I'm kind of a master chef, now, so you should feel privileged I took the time to cook for you."

I let out a high-pitched giggle. "Tom, what did you let him smoke back here?"

Tom cracked an egg into a bowl, looking amused. "I don't think such accusations are going earn you any information, Bella."

Edward gave me a knowing look and I sighed, eventually giving up on trying to torture him for information. "Fine," I said, reaching for the plate and fork. "I'm taking this upstairs - breakfast in bed, if you will. You two can stay here and discuss flan recipes."

Before I could move, Edward put his arm around my waist and lifted me until I was nearly over his shoulder. I yelped and barely managed to keep the pie slice from sliding onto the floor. "What are you - _Edward!"_

"Thanks, Tom," he called before turning to the door.

I didn't think he would, but he actually _carried _me out of the kitchen and into the lobby, passing the surprised guests, and started up the stairs. I was laughing too hard to make him put me down. Only on the third floor did I finally stop long enough to gasp, "I can't believe you did that."

"No? Flan is gross. I'd never stick around to talk about that."

He climbed the last few stairs to our floor and I huffed as his shoulder prodded my stomach. "You're lucky I didn't drop my pie down your shirt."

"That would be a shame, wrecking my hard work," Edward said, exhaling dramatically as he set me down. "I think I might have found my calling."

I opened his door, smiling at the thought of him dressed in a chef's hat. "Thinking of opening a bakery, are you?"

"Maybe I should," he said, following me inside. "I could make big, manly-sized desserts. And muffins."

"Muffins?"

"I like muffins."

I chuckled and climbed onto the bed, taking another bite of pie. "Oh, yeah? If you have dibs on the big, manly muffins _and _dessert, what do I get to make?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want. The babies."

I almost choked. _Hold the fucking phone_. "Babies?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly seeming unsure. "The … baby desserts?"

"You mean_ mini?_" I snorted, tossing my head back with laughter… and relief.

Edward shut his eyes with a scoff, laying a hand across his slowly pinking face. "You thought I meant-"

"Make the _babies,_" I said between giggles.

He grabbed the plate and put it to the side, groaning. "That's not what I meant to-"

"Bella Stork and Edward Muffin. The only bakery you can get babies and black bottoms," I continued, cracking up.

Edward pushed me flat on my back, onto the pillows, and climbed on top of me before silencing me with his lips for a moment. "Laughing at me isn't getting you any further to discovering secret information, you know."

I locked my legs around his waist, trapping him against me. "Oh, I can make you talk."

He smirked. "Really? How's that?"

"How do you think?" I asked, bunching his shirt in my fists and pulling him closer. The slide and scratch of the sheets sounded like an invitation to slip under, so as soon as he submitted to my kiss, I rolled, flipping him over and pinning him to the bed. I grinned at his surprised expression. "I have ways."

"Clearly," he said with a laugh, clasping his hands behind my back. "I'm listening."

"Well, it doesn't have much to do with words."

I curled my thumbs under the hem of his shirt and slid my hands up his sides, trying not to think too much of how warm, how good he felt. I had to concentrate if I was going to play 'Temptress'. Though, I supposed I could tickle the hell out of him if I really wanted to. I knew by experience that if I so much as prodded under his arm, he'd be squealing answers in seconds… but I wanted to make this last.

"Like I said, _I _want secrets…" I drew my hands back and unbuttoned his jeans, tugging at the material until black cotton boxers greeted me. I let my fingertips linger at the top of his shorts. "What do _you _want?"

Edward hummed and reached for my hips, pulling me to straddle his lap. "Dessert really _is _the way to get a girl, huh?"

"Yeah, with all this secret-keeping, you and your lucky charms are… lucky to still get lucky," I teased, bending down and pressing my lips to his neck.

Between soft sighs and our clothes getting lost in the sheets, I almost forgot all thoughts of strategy. I was too heavily concentrating on the rushing heartbeat in my chest and the feel of hands and lips in all the right places, heightening both our needs and creating a familiar spark.

"You feel so good in the morning," he whispered, his breath hot on my cheek.

I moaned a bit as he pressed against me, hard on my stomach. "As opposed to the afternoon? Evening?" I teased. "Because if you need me to stop and save energy-"

"All the time. I just wanted to say it. I-"

His voice caught as I abruptly raised my hips and felt him slide between my legs.

"Tell me," I encouraged, deepening the pull and push, creating friction and watching eagerly as he closed his eyes in anticipation.

"I can't … remember what I was going to say," he mumbled, his mouth on the hollow of my throat.

I drove my fingers through his hair, purposefully speeding the dig of my hips. The movement was intended for him, but _God_, did it feel good for me, too. "I want an ingredient."

He looked up, confused. "What?"

"What did you put in that pie?"

"Are you really asking me this now?"

I almost burst into laughter, but he shut me up with forceful lips on mine, kissing and sucking with determination. Before I could make another move to coax an answer out of him, he'd grabbed my waist and sat up so fast, I gasped. He cradled my back and pulled me close, so tight, impatient, and I tried not to dig my nails into his shoulder blades as I had so many times before. Still, I resisted, tightening my legs and keeping myself just out of reach.

I licked at his earlobe and curled my legs around his back and tried to touch and kiss every spot that drove him crazy, but he was playing hard, too - especially with his hands; his fingers were strong from practicing music, and he was now playing a kind of rhythm below my waist that was slowly, deliciously pushing me closer to the edge.

"What is this, a competition?" I breathed, tilting my head back to see his eyes - all green and glorious. "Are you going to tell me _anything_, or no?"

"If I do, are _you _going to stop talking?"

I grabbed his hair and trailed my tongue up his neck, planting a kiss under his jaw. "Please? Then I promise I'll do anything you want."

He sighed with a throaty chuckle and he brought his hand up my spine, giving me chills. "You're bribing me."

"You're withholding information," I argued, smiling at how ridiculous, yet fun, it was to mess with him during a tangle of prolonged foreplay. "Tell me just one?"

Edward breathed deeply, biting his lip to hide what was undoubtedly a grin. "Fine. Ground hazelnuts go in the crust. And crushed ginger snaps. There - I gave you two. That'll hold you for now, right?"

"There's _more_?"

With a playful growl, he lifted my hips and hoisted me onto his lap. "You promised."

Maybe it was the flush in his cheeks or the throbbing pressure beneath my entrance, or _actually _getting what I wanted from him, but I caved without anymore resistance. I gave in, whispering words of love and squeezing his shoulders in encouragement. All was dizzying and wonderful as always…

But then a pealing sound, chiming like a little bird, interrupted our carnal sounds with bleats of high-pitched notes. Edward cursed under his breath and slightly pulled back, eyeing the night table where our phones were sitting. "Is that me or you?"

I fought a snort. We didn't have the same ringtone and he knew that, but I guessed being connected at the hot spot might blur a few details. "Me. Just ignore it, it'll cut off in a minute."

After a few more repetitive rings, it did stop… only to start again.

"Oh, _my God_," Edward growled again, and not because of what we were doing. He'd practically stopped moving and was now glaring at the table.

"Wait - no," I whined, trying to grab his arm to stop him from reaching for the phone, but he did anyway. "Just throw it. It'll break."

"I'm just turning it off," he said, tapping the pad of numbers. I expected him to toss it to the side and resume the ravishment, but his eyes suddenly widened. "I think I answered it," he said in a hushed voice, but, apparently, not quietly enough.

"Hello?" came a crackly voice from the other line.

_Oh, no. _Not a voice I ever wanted to hear while naked.

"Edward?" it continued.

I almost slapped the phone out of his hand. It was _Renée_.

I was naked - _naked - _with my boyfriend inside of me, and I was hearing my mother's voice say _Edward's _name. _Girl Parts, Interrupted, now playing at Red Timber Lodge, starring you_.

"Ms. Renée?" Edward said, his eyes wide as he pressed the phone to his ear, while I contemplated how to sink through the bed, floor - whatever - and find my happy place where undisturbed sex existed without parents, the biggest cockblock known to man.

"Fine, thanks, you?" he continued. I tried to swipe the phone, but he sat up and out of my reach, covering himself with a sheet. "Oh, we're just taking it easy."

"More like you were in the middle of taking her easy daughter," I grumbled under my breath.

Edward pinched my hip as Renée rambled, getting in a word when he could. Finally, he said, "Sure, she's right here. Just a moment."

Wriggling out from under his legs, I took my phone, pouting, and covered the receiver with my palm. "This will teach you to throw it next time."

He only smiled, probably all too confident in his ability to bring me right back to being a horizontal, lascivious mess in a matter of minutes. He stretched out and rested his head on a pillow, looking sexy and angelic and completely unaffected by what had just happened. Damn him.

"Hellooo," I said into the phone, forming my lips in a dramatic 'o' and willing myself to stop staring at Edward's sheet-covered ass.

"Hi, honey," said Renée happily. "How are you guys? Edward sounds well."

_Yeah, that's because he was on his way to climaxing._

"We're good, Mom. How's Florida?"

"It's _great_."

Oh, God. I knew that tone. Her voice was bubbling with just-under-the-surface excitement. She must have painted the house siding Pepto-pink or signed up for Irish dancing lessons, or started an alpaca farm - something that willed the 'I-Have-Something-Crazy-To-Tell-You' tone.

I smirked as I shook my head and reached to rub Edward's back. "What did you do this time? Get a pony?"

"I'm engaged!"

I almost dropped the phone and my mouth lost its grin, opening in a jaw-drop instead. "You're what?"

"Well, _we're _engaged - your father and I! He proposed this morning, right on the beach! Oh, I wish you could have been here, baby. It was beautiful - the sunrise and the waves, and…"

She kept talking and I stared, still slack-jawed, at the rumpled blankets that covered my feet. Edward tapped my elbow, his eyebrows creased in question. "What's wrong?" he mouthed.

I shook my head slowly. Nothing was wrong. But _wow_. This was what I'd always wanted as a child: my parents back together again, married and happy. But the wish was like a dream that had been stuffed away and thought of less and less as time passed, growing dusty and pale like a childhood toy in an attic. It wasn't gone, it had just been forgotten. "Wow, Mom," I said, trying to keep the utter shock out of my voice. "Just… wow, I can't believe it. Charlie - Dad - you-"

"I'm _so _happy, Bella," Renée cried, and then _actually _started to cry.

I was never good at this, the girly squealing that should come with happy, lovey-dovey news. I'd come close with Angela, I supposed, but this - coming from my parents, anyway - was kind of weird.

"Mom… don't cry. Is Charlie there?" I asked. Edward looked heavily concerned now, probably thinking something was wrong, but I waved off his worry and grabbed a pillow to press against my bare chest. "She's fine," I whispered to him. "They got engaged. Again."

His eyes widened in surprise and unlike me, a smile bloomed across his face. "That's great."

I tried to grin back, but my lips wouldn't cooperate. I took to staring down at the bed and chewing on my thumbnail as Renée blubbered a tad incoherently; I did make out the words '_be my maid of honor'_, but thankfully, Charlie came onto the line before I could choke on my own breath. Just as I hoped, he was composed and instinctually caught on to my incredulous reaction.

"I know what you're thinking, kiddo, but it just felt right," he explained simply. "We're going on a year together and we've thought it through a lot longer than the first time."

"Yeah…" I felt foggy, unable to shake a weird, disconnected feeling in my chest. Edward's hands found my shoulders and squeezed gently, bringing me a bit more clarity, and I glided my fingers over his in thanks.

"You're skeptical," Charlie said calmly. "That's okay."

"I'm surprised," I tried to correct him, only to realize I was both.

"I thought about giving you a heads up," he told me. "Actually, I wanted to do this when you were home so you could be here with us, but you've been pretty adamant about staying up there."

Though there was absolutely no scolding present in his voice, his words hit me with a pang of guilt. I picked at a fraying string on the comforter, not sure how my plans would have changed if he _had _told me such a thing. "I'm sorry. I'm really happy for you - both of you. It's just … this is new. I need a minute."

Charlie mm-hmm'd and I could hear slight scratching. He was probably playing with his mustache. "I arrested a naked parasailer yesterday," he said after a beat.

I snorted, finally cracking a grin. "Really?"

"Yeah. Drunk, of course. He had a lobster tattooed right on his-"

"_Dad_."

"Right. Sorry."

"Thanks for the mental picture, though," I said, chuckling at the thought of my sensible father handcuffing a naked, crustacean-cocked drunk.

"It was pretty eye-catching."

We both snuffled another laugh and I relaxed at the familiar sense of normalcy. "I miss you," I said quietly, and as Charlie repeated my words, I felt Edward slide off the bed. I turned and watched him walk to the window, the sheet wrapped loosely around his waist. Another pang of guilt bubbled in my stomach and I wished I would have waited until I was alone to utter such a phrase. I knew he missed his family, too.

"Hey, Dad, I should probably go," I started, shifting uneasily on the bed. "Mind if I call you later?"

"Sure, but before you go," Charlie said thoughtfully, "I should remind you that Thanksgiving's only a few days away."

My gaze lingered on Edward. "Yeah, that's right," I said absentmindedly.

"And your mother's talking about Tofurkey."

That snapped me out of it. "Oh, God. Poor you."

"I don't suppose there's a chance you'd come home to save your old man from that, is there? Maybe bring me one of Tom's pies?"

I narrowed my eyes, biting into my suddenly-smiling lips. "Funny you should mention it, because I almost have access to that very recipe. Edward made one this morning and I'm in the process of trying to coax the ingredients out of him."

Edward glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name and I stuck out my tongue out, teasing. Luckily, he didn't seem upset, just a bit pensive, and gave me a dashing curl of his lips.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Well, all the more reason to bring him along. It'll be nice to have him, too."

I sat up straight, wondering if I had heard correctly. Charlie never thought it was _nice _to see anyone that I knew whose lower half was comprised of male parts. A handful of Christmases ago, Charlie had caught me holding hands with my neighborhood crush and scared the hell out of the kid, telling him to keep his hands in church-appropriate places while flashing him a view of his holstered gun. After that, I imagined that if a guy would ever be invited over on a holiday, Renée would be behind it.

"Really?" I said hopefully, unsure if _this _was more surprising or their engagement. "Charlie Swan, have you gone soft?"

"Yeah, well. With the way you talk, it seems like you two are pretty serious."

Renée's voice sounded in the distance, suddenly, with a very loud, embarrassing wail of "Tell Bella it's _her _turn, next!"

I creased my eyebrows, grimacing. "Has she been drinking?"

Charlie laughed. "Love you, Bells. See you soon, okay?"

I was then reunited with a slightly less hysterical Renée, who gleefully informed me that she'd Fed Ex'd plane tickets to the lodge, which were scheduled to arrive in two days' time. "We want you home for the holiday, baby. And like your father said, Edward's welcome, too. We'd really like to meet him."

"I - I'll … ask him." Well, wasn't this the morning of all surprises. My parents were getting married for the second time and they'd sent my boyfriend, of whom they'd never met, a plane ticket without his permission and leaving it to me to ask him with almost no time to prepare. "How about I call you later, Mom? We were just in the middle of… breakfast."

Edward softly snorted from the window and I proceeded to congratulate her one more time with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Even though I wasn't exactly producing pompoms over their announcement, there was no reason to let her think I was so numb. She didn't deserve that. Soon after, I hung up with a sigh and leaned against the pile of shambled pillows.

"Sorry," I apologized. I tossed my phone to the side and reached for a shirt that was tangled between the blankets. It was Edward's, but I put it on anyway. "I wasn't expecting all of that."

"You're not happy," he pointed out softly. He was studying me, his eyes discerning.

I shrugged my shoulders and rubbed my eyes, still trying to piece my scattered thoughts together and pinpoint why I felt so blocked. "No, I am. It's a good thing. They deserve to be happy." I said this so quietly, so straight-faced, it was almost ridiculous. I lowered my fists as I felt him climb onto the bed and didn't resist as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his bare chest.

"What's the matter?" he asked, stroking my hair.

"I'm Tofurkey."

He was silent for a few moments before breaking into a snuffling, snorting laugh, shaking the entire bed. "Sorry?"

I clung to him, pressing my cheek to his warm skin, letting the sound of his laugh comfort me. "I really am glad for them. But it's kind of a reminder of how good they've been without me around to ruin things."

"Bella…" Edward started, his tone growing stern. "You said it yourself - they were practically kids when they got married. Younger than we are. And you weren't the problem, it was just-"

"No, wait," I stopped him, tensing as he tried to pull away and probably stare at me with his beautiful eyes and manipulate me into buying a book on self-confidence. "It's not so much that. These past few weeks, I've been thinking… so much has changed, you know? I don't feel so stuck in a self-deprecating rut anymore. I thought, maybe, when I went home again, I might be ready to … come clean."

Edward's mind was preternaturally akin to my thoughts as per usual, because he squeezed me tightly, protectively. "About?"

I pursed my lips. Saying his name still unsettled me. "Phil."

"I thought you'd say that," he said. _Of course. _"And today changed your mind?"

"Well, yeah," I said, finally looking up at him. "There's a reason why I haven't said anything… I don't want to deal with the fallout, the fight that's inevitably going to come. Renée's going to freak out and cry, and probably have a breakdown. And Charlie will go shoot Phil and end up in prison, and even if he doesn't, I'm sure they'll find a way to blame each other or themselves, and I'll have caused it all."

"For the last time, _you _didn't cause anything."

"I wasn't honest," I insisted. "Renée always made it known that I wasn't acting like myself and I lied and made excuses. I hid my feelings, disguised everything. I'm Tofurkey, attempting to fake everyone out. And I'm going to ruin Thanksgiving - well, their engagement. Or both."

Edward tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Always worried about everyone but yourself…" I rolled my eyes and he mimicked me. "I'm serious. I understand why you're worried. I do. But why keep something that's painful so secret from people you love?"

I gave him a deliberate stare. "Are you kidding me? There are secrets _you _still won't tell me," I pointed out. "And why is that, again?"

I couldn't help the sarcasm. As much as I loved him, when it came to internal conflict, he rarely practiced what he preached. He sighed, turning on his back and staring at the ceiling. "Touché," he said, looking at odds.

He'd gotten better, but sometimes, getting him to talk was like pulling teeth. There were only a handful of occasions when his eyes would take on a melancholic glaze, as though reliving or remembering a particularly difficult moment, and when they did, he'd taken to speaking with Mr. Miller - or John, as Edward began calling him. I didn't intrude and always tried my best not to feel slighted when he opted to talk with someone other than myself; I was just glad he was openly discussing things with _someone_.

"You're stronger than I am, though," he added.

I shook my head, snuggling into his side. "I'm not."

"Agree to disagree?"

"No."

He chuckled, kissing my hair. "You're so stubborn."

"You know, the amount of times I've mentioned the words 'pot' and 'kettle' to you might be in the hundreds by now," I grumbled.

"Let's get out of here," he said, sitting up and bringing me with him before I could protest. "Come on. We can talk about this later. You need a distraction. What will make you feel better?"

My gaze lingered on the sheet that was draped across his lap, only showing the v-shaped dip of his hips and the dark, soft trail of hair below his navel. I glanced up to find him watching me, following my eyes and reading my mind with a slight smirk. As much as I wanted to continue _that_, I was suddenly craving a different kind of comfort. "I could go for a latte."

He tried his best to keep a straight face, he really did, but he struggled with a look of downright amusement. "Sounds good to me," he said warmly, then creased his eyebrows in mock disappointment. "But don't forget… you owe me for giving you two ingredients."

I couldn't hold back a snort. "I know, I know. I promise we'll pick right back up where we started. But first, I need caffeine and time to get the image of my parents and their probable post-engagement sex out of my head."

He narrowed his eyes, subtly grimacing. "Yeah, okay. Let's put on some pants."

-:-

Part 2 will be along soon - it was supposed to be one chapter, but ugh, the length was killing me. It's almost finished, though, and I promise I'm not just saying that. Sorry for the splitting nonsense. :/

Thanks for reading! And again, so sorry for the wait!


	31. Distant Dark Places Pt 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own a pretty cool nightlight, though. It shines through my window on a big black stick. Okay, it might be a streetlamp…

Recap: Last chapter, Edward was a cunning little devil, withholding secret baking info and Bella tried to tempt him with fun naked times to get the secrets out of him. But they were interrupted by the _parents, _calling with news of their engagement. Bella realized that she's still carrying scars around, thinking she's a home wrecker. Lattes were in order.

Hopefully, this one came quick enough for you guys. I didn't even answer any reviews because I was writing, so I'll be better about that this time around! This one's long (er than Moby Dick's peen), so depending on if you like the lengthy ones or not, I'm sorry or you're welcome. ;) Thanks again for reading! And, uh… buckle your angst-belt, please. o_O

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I was stalling. Even the cartoonish turkey decorations around me seemed to be ogling me with cocked heads and quizzical, beady eyes, waiting for me to make a move.

As desperate as I was for the comfort of a coffeehouse atmosphere and to get my hands on a sweet, creamy chai tea latte, there was something holding me back. That some_thing _was about a some_one _who was six feet two inches of scrumptious man, sitting patiently to my left as I perused the lobby bookcases.

_He loves you, _I reminded myself. _You love him, too._

This really shouldn't have been so difficult, working up the nerve to ask Edward if he wanted to come home with me for Thanksgiving. Yes, meeting my family, and probably friends, was included. Sure, there might be a bit of boyfriend-judging on Charlie's part, because I knew he would inevitably shift into officer-mode at some point. And there was a possibility that more embarrassing stories about me would be told, given that I'd been a walking, talking klutz-in-the-box since my first step.

None of those reasons were very worrisome, though. My main fear was that he would say no, that he wasn't ready. We'd known each other for months, sort of … but still had only been officially together for a few weeks. It was reminiscent of high-school insecurities, getting flustered like I was about to ask him to the prom. I briefly considered persuading him to go to the bar. He might be more inclined to say yes to accompanying me home and playing meet-the-parents and very possibly overhearing the beginnings of their wedding planning if he was a little drunk.

"What would Frost say to your switch to Harlequin romance?"

I glanced up and turned toward Edward, raising my eyebrows. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at that book with the beefy guy in a haystack for awhile," he said with a grin.

I hadn't exactly been paying attention to what I was browsing, but sure enough, I turned to find a hulking Fabio look-alike splayed over a battered, red cover that read _Farm Frolics_. Ew. Jessica Stanley's fingerprints were probably all over that.

"Um," I sputtered, shaking my head and averting my eyes, "no. I wasn't - I was just thinking."

"About rolling in the hay?"

I couldn't help but smile. "No."

"Me, naked with a pitchfork?"

"Shh," I hissed with a giggle. "Someone's going to hear you."

"What do you need to ask me, again?"

He'd already pressed me about the unasked question three times, having overheard me tell Renée, 'I'll ask him'. I shrugged my shoulders and jokingly replied, "I'll ask you when you write down that pie recipe. Charlie's expecting me to bake one for-"

_Oops_.

"…Christmas," I tried to cover. "Or whenever. So, it would help if I knew what to _add_."

"I can't give away any more," he complained, looking charmingly boyish as he slumped against the couch pillows. "I'll have nothing to dangle over you."

I snorted. "I could think of something."

He wrinkled his nose. "I'd like to think you'd have a better portrayal than _dangling _for my-"

"Finding everything okay, honey?"

Doris. Oh, Doris. She had suddenly appeared right behind Edward on the other side of the couch, holding a large, brightly-colored, leafy wreath. I snickered as Edward snapped his mouth closed and tried to appear innocent.

"Thanks, Doris, I'm getting there," I said. "There's a lot to choose from."

"Oh, I know, it's packed fuller than a stuffed turkey!" she said cheerily. "I could speed through a library, picking out armloads. But ask me to chose just one and I'd be there for hours!"

Edward and I shared an amused look as Doris practically skipped to the fireplace beside me.

"I've been so busy planning a menu with Tom for Thanksgiving, I got behind on finishing my decorating," she prattled as she stretched to hang the wreath above the mantle, just out of reach. "Ooh, I swear I get shorter every year! Mr. Masen, would you mind giving me a hand?"

Edward jumped up. "Sure, Doris," he said, taking the wreath. He was so tall, he barely raised his arm to hook it over a protruding nail in the wall. "Is that okay?"

The way she smiled at him, you would have thought he'd just used that arm to part the Rea Sea.

"Yes, it's perfect! Thank you, dear." She gripped his hand and squeezed my arm, giving a sentimental sigh. "Oh, you kids… I'm going to miss you both so much. I wish I could keep you two around for the holiday, but I'm sure you'll have so much fun together in Florida!"

A mental _screeeeeeech _sounded in my head, like brakes contracting to keep from rear-ending a car. Only an adorable, unaware, elderly woman was behind the wheel of this revelation. When Doris noticed my wide-eyed expression, she patted my hair and laughed.

"Don't look so shocked, Isabella, I'm no mind-reader, I assure you! Your father called to ask me to sign for the package - your plane tickets - when they arrive," she said lightly, pausing to admire the autumn wreath one more time before turning back to me. "Just in case you aren't right in the lobby when they show, of course."

I nodded quickly, trying to tone down my alarm. I tried telling myself that she had just done me a favor, like ripping off a Band-Aid instead of a slow peel - quick, and I didn't even have to go through the mouth-fumble that would be, _'Um, Edward, ?'._

"Thanks," I squeaked, avoiding Edward's eyes.

"You two have fun wherever you're heading," she said, patting my coat with a chipper smile. "I'm going to have to restrain myself from pulling out the Christmas decorations, next!"

In true Doris-fashion, she walked away with a spring in her step, completely oblivious of the secret she'd just exposed. I stared straight ahead, right into _farm boy's _suggestive eyes, before tentatively glancing at Edward. He seemed nonplussed, one eyebrow slightly raised in a questioning arch.

"That's… that's what I was going to ask you. My mom - w-well, Charlie brought it up-" I let my breath out, fixing my eyes back on the books, feeling a little lightheaded. "They want me - and you - to come home for Thanksgiving. I didn't even realize it was _time _for Thanksgiving until my dad said something. And they sent tickets. For Jacksonville. For both of us." I was sweating, my cheeks inflamed like two little, red stop signs, warning me to slow down and make sense. "But you don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean, _I'd _like you to. But you don't - I…"

Reluctantly, I looked to the side, expecting to find a deeper look of bewilderment or maybe rejection on his face, or even little x's in place of his eyes, having scared him to death with talk of getting on a plane and heading to meet the guy who had once blatantly torn into his personal records.

He was fucking _smiling_.

"You're kind of adorable when you're nervous," he enlightened me.

I furrowed my brow, feeling embarrassed but somewhat thrilled that he wasn't running away in terror. "I'm not nervous…"

_Hello, Bella. These are your pants speaking. We're on fire._

Clearing my throat, I sheepishly took his hand and pulled him away from the bookcases, into the hallway the led to the dining room and away from the eyes of everyone else. "So… do you want to come have Thanksgiving with us? Because I should probably get down there and save my father from having to eat tofu for dinner… and I'd really like you to be there with me."

_There_. _You said it_. "I mean, unless you have plans," I added quickly, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I'd had it wrong, before; _I _was the one who needed the drink, not him.

"Plans?" He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Well, I _did _have some pretty important things to do," he said hesitantly, tugging at his hair. "I've been spending all my time with you, so I've had to push my schedule to the side."

I wrung my hands together and fidgeted, feeling my chest tighten, the sense of uncertainty reminding me of the first day I'd met him.

"I haven't washed my car in almost a month, I have no idea what the Bears' standing is, and you keep taking all my shirts so I'm running low on clean laundry…" He sighed. "And _look _at my hair. If I don't cut it soon, people will start calling me Edwarda."

I gaped at him, unsure if I should smile or stay silent in case he was serious.

"My God, it's so easy," he said, laughing. "You look like you're waiting for a prison sentence. Are you kidding me?"

"Um," I murmured, swallowing as though lead had coated my throat. "About the invite? No… I meant it."

I dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling like crap. I'd built myself up for disappointment, but it still hurt a little. It wasn't the end of the world, though. Maybe he was just another Chandler Bing*. But if I was going home and he wasn't interested in joining me, then that meant-

"I probably shouldn't joke around when you're in need of caffeine, huh?" Interrupting my thoughts, he pulled me close and rested a hand on my hip, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear with his other. "I love you. You know that, right?"

I nodded, still hesitant to meet his eyes. "Yeah. But, what?"

"There is no 'but'," he said, tilting my head to make me look up. "You're asking like I wouldn't want to go with you."

My eyebrows raised. "I - I don't expect you to do anything out of obligation."

"Obligation?" He found this funny, chuckling as he kissed my forehead. "Give me some credit, woman. Do you see a leash around my neck?"

"N-no," I stammered, fumbling for the right words. "I didn't mean-"

"Hey," he said, stopping me from saying anymore absurdity. "You're freaking out. Joke with me."

I was. I _was _freaking, even when I could plainly see the playful look in his eyes. And behind that, I could see the spark that revealed he wasn't planning on turning me down, either. I should have known - his eyes usually did tell all.

I finally smiled, letting it sink in. "Fine. Your balls aren't wearing pink 'I Belong to Bella' bows. You're free to do whatever you please."

"Well, thanks," he answered with a smirk. "So when I say that I'd love to come with you, you believe me, right?"

I brushed his hair (which really _could _use a cut) away from his eyes. "Really?" I couldn't help sounding hopeful.

"Well, of course," he said, looking a bit self-conscious. "Not to pull the sympathy card, but I haven't spent a holiday with anyone since my parents died. It'll be different … but it will be nice to be with a family. Be with you."

I curled my fingers into his hair and pulled his head close to mine, trying not to tear up; every time he spoke like this, it was a struggle for me not to lose it. "You realize that by coming, you _are _part of the family."

He put his head against mine, sighing softly, and was silent for a few moments. Afraid that I'd just said the wrong thing, I pulled back a bit, but then he kissed me before I could see his face. His lips were gentle, giving, speaking in motion instead of words, but I could feel every tender ounce of sentiment: care, yearning, gratitude.

"Thank you." His voice sounded strange as he tucked me tightly to his chest. I felt him faintly shudder and even when I loosened my arms, he didn't release me. "Just a minute," he whispered. For a second, I wondered if he could actually be holding back tears.

_Oh, God_. I would turn into the goddamn poster child for Kleenex if his eyes were the slightest bit wet. I kept my head against his shirt, letting him hold me and hugging him back, and we stayed still until:

"So, if I'm part of the family, that means I should treat you like my sister?"

Horrified, I wriggled my way out of his arms. If he'd needed a moment to compose himself, he'd clearly done so, because the smirk on his face proved that he was completely fine and, once again, acting like a goofball.

"You'd kiss your sister like that?" I retaliated. "Pervert. You should be arrested."

"That's the point, actually," he said. "I'm just thinking about your father and how he would react to seeing us like _this_. So, maybe I should just pretend you're my sister around him. Right? No touching? Less chance of me getting shot?"

"Well, as long as you can restrain from making out with me at the table, I'd say you're safe," I laughed. "We can hold hands, though. Maybe even play footsies."

"Now I'm having visions of accidentally brushing your dad's foot."

"Oh, my God. Fine. I won't sit anywhere near you. Charlie will probably insist on eating on the couch anyway. You guys can bond over football."

Edward stretched his arms and gave me one last peck on the lips. "Great. I'll have to talk up the Jaguars. That'll earn me points with him, right?"

"Seahawks," I corrected him. "He's from here, remember?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "Maybe I should make a check list."

"Ha. You can make one on the plane … that is, if you're _really _sure you want to do this," I teased. "It _is _a red-eye flight… and almost ten hours. Bad airplane food. Dry air. I might snore."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I might wake up screaming." My expression fell, but he added, "What? I told you, those Care Bears really fucking scare me."

"Maybe you could use some aversion therapy," I offered, lightly punching his arm. "It's simple. You say things like that, and I hit you."

"You're so insensitive," he said, pretending to be hurt. "Arcotophobia is real."

I stared, incredulous. "There's an actual name for the fear of Care Bears?"

"Well, no. Arcotophobia is just regular bears. But it's already rubbing off. Sometimes I get the feeling that the bear figure at the door is watching me, or-"

I held my fist close to his face. "I'll do it."

"You wouldn't dare." He grinned, contentedly placing his hands behind his head.

I lowered my hand, nodding. "All right, I wouldn't. But I would do this." I jabbed my hands under his arms and squeezed, causing him to gasp and almost fall to the floor. He instantly cracked up, flailing so much that I could only hold onto him for a few seconds.

"_Stop_," he said, panting, still laughing. "That's not even fair. Go pick out your book, you bully."

He took a hold of my shoulders and steered me back into the lobby, to the bookcases. "Now I'm craving coffee, too, so try not to take until midnight, okay? In fact, when do we leave? I bet you I could have my bags packed before you choose a book."

"Ha ha," I said, returning my attention to the shelves. "We leave on Wednesday at seven-twenty. Crap, that gives us less than a week. We should call Angela and Ben and see if they'd like to go out one more time. It's already the nineteenth."

Edward was quiet for a moment, then straightened, raising his eyebrows. "What did you say?"

"It's the nineteenth," I told him, narrowing my eyes and biting my lip in thought. "We only have five days left. You know, I think that might have been my parents' anniversary, before. I wonder if Charlie chose today on purpose." I trailed my finger over a few books, feeling the bump of the unleveled hardbacks. "And another thing, can you believe Renée actually had the balls to ask when it was going to be _my _turn to get married? I should have told her we already had."

I turned back to him, the beginning of a laugh on my lips, but the stunned look on his face made me stop.

"What'd I say?" I asked, frozen for a moment. I waited for him to grin, to be joking, but his expression didn't change. "Oh, God, I didn't mean it. I wouldn't really say…"

Whoa, he looked ready to vomit.

"Uh, I - just because my parents are taking a second trip down the aisle doesn't mean I'm suddenly in a hurry for… that."

He simply stared at me, still silent and unmoving. Oh, crap. Right after he agreed to go home with me - right after we'd had such a great moment, another step forward - I had to go and freak him out with the M-word.

"Yes, Edward, I'm _so _going to pressure you into promising me all of eternity with you, now." I playfully rolled my eyes and walked back to his side, bending to kiss his cheek, but his eyes were suddenly confined to the carpet. "I-I'm kidding," I said weakly. "I don't want to get married. Well, not _now_. Maybe not ever."

He finally snapped out of it, peeling his gaze off the floor and appearing confused. I wasn't sure if _now_ I had just insinuated that our relationship would forever remain stagnant. "Or… I don't know, maybe not _never_…" I sighed, feeling my cheeks burn.

"Sorry, I-" He grasped his hair, trailing his fingers through in the slow, signature way that he always did, and cleared his throat. "I got distracted for a minute."

"I really don't want to marry you," I blurted, a little desperate to make him forget. _Oh, my God. You just made it worse. _"Okay, that wasn't nice. I didn't mean - I just meant - fuck."

_Jesus on skis, Bella. Shut. Up._

"Save your energy," he said, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles, a feeble smile on his face. "I know you're not thinking _that _far ahead."

I nodded quickly. "Okay," I managed, although a little too squeaky for my liking. I reached out and plucked the nearest book from the shelf, not even bothering to check the title. "You just looked… never mind." _Time to go and to change the subject, already_. "I'm ready. You?"

He seemed hesitant, but stood anyway. "Yeah."

Edward was silent as we walked to the car. "Did I really freak you out that bad?" I asked, frowning as I watched his eyebrows knit tightly across his forehead. He only gave me a small shake of his head.

The ride to the coffeehouse was mostly quiet, except for when I made small talk, commenting on the weather, the beauty of the falling leaves, the spot where I'd practically tripped over a fire hydrant on one of the days I'd joined him for a run. When I turned on the CD player to erase the silence and the sophisticated melody of violins and piano filled the car, he abruptly switched it to a radio station, one that was heavy on the electric guitar.

"Sorry," I mumbled, folding my hands in my lap.

"I'm just not in the mood for that," he replied. He kept his eyes on the road even though we were stopped at a red light.

This was beyond weird. I'd been _teasing _him. We'd been kidding around all day, even moments before in the hallway - the entire couple of weeks we'd been together, too. Even Ben had made a joke the other night, saying we should all drive to Vegas and get married in a drive-thru chapel so we could get a free stay at the MGM Grand. If Edward hadn't seemed horrified then, why now? Hell, we'd been laughing over a _baby _joke, before.

When he parked at Mocha Motion, he fumbled with his keys and I opened the car door, lifting my right foot out and onto the pavement, then turned to look at him. He hadn't moved; he was merely gazing straight ahead, one hand still curled over the steering wheel.

"Coming?" I asked dumbly, watching as he pressed his lips together, only to remain silent. I reached out and rubbed his shoulder, worried. "What's the matter?"

It took him a few seconds, but he finally muttered, "Maybe it would be better if you go in without me."

If I had been a cartoon, a little bubble of jumbled question marks would have hovered above my head. I stared at him, mouth parted, trying to think of what to say. He seemed intent on not facing me, but eventually did after I silently refused to turn away. Or maybe because I was letting a ton of cold air into the car.

"It's just… I'm sorry, I know it seems like my mood took a one-eighty," he said. I fought the urge to utter '_You think_?'. "But you should go in. I know you wanted to. Go ahead."

_Yeah, right_.

When I didn't move, he added, "Look, it's hard for me to say this to you, but I need to be by myself for a bit."

Slowly, I pulled the car door closed , shutting it with a soft click to block the wind. I studied him carefully, trying to figure out if he was mad or sad, or even still anxious over the marriage comment - in a better word, _joke_. "It had to be something I said. It was, wasn't it?"

I wanted him to brush me off, assure me that I was being silly, but he surprised me by nodding.

"Okay," I said, trying to race through my thoughts and pinpoint every single thing I could have said to cause this. "Um … the marriage thing? I know you said you knew I was kidding-"

"It's not that."

I nervously played with my coat's zipper. "Is it … my parents? Are you having second thoughts about meeting them? I mean, I know they just got engaged, but-"

I was grasping at straws, trying to understand, but felt like an inconsiderate ass as he gave me a wounded look. "That's what you think?" he asked, sternly creasing his brow. "That I'm jealous of your parents being alive and happy?"

"What - _no!"_ I stared at him, defensive. "I just thought maybe you were nervous that they'd bombard you with what your _intentions _are with me, now that they're all ring-happy, or…" I sighed, slightly exasperated. "God, Edward, I don't know. How hard is it to just tell me?"

He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking as though he was holding back a flood of words. I expected him to suddenly lash out, unloading a slew of whatever was plaguing his mind, but instead he finally said, "November nineteenth."

Confused, I blinked, furrowing my eyebrows. "Today's date?"

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "Yes. My mother's birthday."

His words made my chest hitch. _Oh, shit_. "Oh," I breathed, remembering that I'd told him the date aloud; they were the words that he'd asked me to repeat. "Did you … forget?"

Last year, I hadn't remembered Renée's birthday until almost ten o'clock at night, and she'd smiled through a slightly sad expression when I showed up on her doorstep with a crappy store-bought cake. She'd waved her hands, cheerfully saying it was no big deal - '_Like I need to remember that I'm any older, Bella!_' - but it was also the first birthday she'd spent without Phil. The entire day, she'd had no one to distract her that her own daughter had forgotten about her. I'd felt like the shittiest person ever.

Although Edward's situation was completely different, now I understood his change of disposition. It read so clear in his eyes that I couldn't believe I hadn't deciphered it sooner: he felt guilty.

"Forget? Yes," he answered quickly, coldly. "Yes, I forgot. Completely." My fingertips had barely brushed his shoulder when he flinched. "No, don't."

"Don't be upset," I began softly, which was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"_Upset_?" he repeated, glowering at the windshield, but the glass may as well have been a reflector, bouncing his glare right toward me. "What would you know about it?"

I sat still for a few moments, pulling at my sleeves. "Nothing."

"Right."

I figured a time like this would come where I'd have to remain understanding instead of getting defensive and starting an argument. I knew the real reason for his anger wasn't because he'd forgotten his mother's _birthday_, just the thought that he'd forgotten _her, _even if it was only for a moment.

"But you remembered," I gently reminded him. "You didn't miss it. I know you've said you're not big on prayer, but you can still-"

"She's dead, Bella, it's not like I can wish her well," he scoffed.

I rubbed my eyes, internally scolding myself. I had no idea what to say in a situation like this. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. But remaining silent wasn't my strongest suit. "Even so… you shouldn't be mad at yourself."

"Shouldn't I? For spending all of my time with you and forgetting them? Right - I'm Son of the Year."

After that kick in the throat, I was frozen. I had nothing left to say to that. Spending time with me … forgetting them. That was never what I'd wanted him to do. Was that what he'd been _trying _to do? No, obviously not, or he wouldn't have been so upset. Though, he hadn't spoken of his parents in awhile, not deeply, anyway - only in brief, passing conversation. He hadn't brought them up, so I hadn't pushed, figuring he would talk about them when he wanted to. Maybe I was full of all the wrong assumptions.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt a tickle on my neck. _Damn it_.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Edward staring out his window. He hadn't seen. Discreetly, I pretended to play with my hair so I could swipe my cheek with the sleeve of my coat. No sooner did I lower my arm, Edward glanced over, just in time for another hot tear to roll down my face. I felt horrible, then, embarrassed and stupid, and I quickly brushed it away with my thumb.

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

I took a deep breath to steady my voice. "No, it's okay," I said, doing a surprisingly good job at sounding normal. "I…"

I was suddenly afraid to say '_I understand'_.

He sounded weak as he spoke. "This isn't your fault and I know that, but I'm just angry. I - I can't help it."

I nodded, willing my watery eyes to not spill over. "It's understandable." I decided that might be a better way to phrase it. Thankfully, his expression didn't change - not for the worse, anyway. "We can go back. I don't expect you'd want to go sit in there with me."

"You should go in," he said anyway, looking at his lap. "Get a drink, read your book for a little while. I'll go take some time."

I wasn't really sure I could go in the coffeehouse without crying like a moron once I was alone, but I didn't know what else to do, either. Without protesting, I slipped out of the car, shuddering at the chill and walking to the Volvo's tail end. Edward did the same and held out the book I'd left on the dashboard.

"Thanks," I said, taking it, finding it hard to look at him. "I guess I'll call Angela later and see if she can pick me up. She worked last night, so she might be sleeping until-"

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't just leave you here," he cut in, holding out his keys and slipping them into my hand. "Are you okay with driving yourself back?"

"Yeah, but … where are you going?"

"I need to take a walk. Maybe a run. I just need to clear my head."

I nodded, tightly gripping his keys, making my hands sting. "Will you call me if you want to be picked up?"

"Yeah. You might not have to. I might just go back and talk to John if he's around. I'm not sure."

I swallowed thickly, feeling the clichéd, invisible lump in my throat. It hurt, even though I knew he didn't mean anything by it. Like I told myself so many times before, at least he was talking to somebody, even if it wasn't me.

"It's cold. You should zip your coat," I told him faintly, then shut my eyes, feeling even worse. That was the most motherly thing I could have said. Like he really wanted to hear _that_.

He tugged at his zipper until it was closed mid-chest, then reached over and squeezed my shoulder. His touch was quick, foreign, and he began walking away before I could say anything else.

"Hey," I called softly. He slowly turned and my heart felt like jagged, damaged pieces that had been poorly glued back together. He looked like the same broken boy he was when I first met him. "I'm sorry."

Edward shook his head. "You shouldn't be."

I watched him walk until he turned the corner and was out of my sight.

-:-

If I'd been in a bar, I would have drowned my sorrows. If I'd been in a diner, I would have played crappy, sad music on the jukebox. But for over two hours, I'd been in a cheerfully-decorated, warm coffeehouse, with smiling baristas, paper-reading patrons, and studious people bent over their laptops. Since I never sat in the corner to secretly cry, I'd done the next best thing: indulged in chai tea lattes and chocolate mocha cake.

Three lattes, two pieces of cake, and one sympathetic stare from the cashier later, I was sugar high and shaking. After all, I'd had pie for breakfast and had consumed nothing but sugar since. A headache was building behind my eyes, so my book was no longer worth the annoyance, but I wasn't ready to leave. I'd kept my phone right next to me the whole time, hoping Edward would call or text, even if it was just to say, "I need more time." But he didn't.

I couldn't blame him. We'd spent almost every waking moment with each other for a long time - we would have needed space eventually, even if his mother's birthday hadn't been until May. I told myself this over and over, but a small corner of my heart wouldn't stop aching. I hated seeing that familiar injured, lost look in his eyes, the one I'd hoped would stay away. It was inevitable, though. He still had struggles to deal with, and so did I. That was life, I supposed.

"Bear claw for your thoughts?"

I jumped, almost spilling the remains of my latte. Jacob Black was standing at my booth, smiling and half-naked, reminding me of the muscle maniac on _Farm Frolics_.

"_Jacob_," I said in shock as he slid his way into the booth, across from me, "where in the _hell _is your shirt?"

"Shh!" he hushed me and gestured to the front counter. "They'll toss me out if they know. But seriously - will you go get me one of those bear claws? And a hot chocolate? The biggest one?" Before I could answer, he dug a crumpled bill out of his pocket and slid it toward me, a grin fit for a million dollars on his face.

"Uh … sure. Hi, by the way."

"Hey, what's up?" he said casually, leaning back and sighing contentedly.

Befuddled, but amused, I walked up to the serving counter. "Can I have one bear claw, please?" I asked the barista. "And a large hot chocolate?"

"Sure," the girl said, tapping the order into the register. She looked surprised, considering I'd already eaten almost half a cake, but didn't comment. "Would you care for two? Bear claws are the special today - buy one, get one free."

"Um, okay," I said. Jacob was huge; I was sure if I could handle two pieces of cake, he could handle two bear claws.

_Bear claws. Bear claws reversed is claw bears. Almost sounds like Care Bears. Bears. Arcotophobia. Fuck, you're pathetic_.

I carried his order back to the table and his expression grew positively joyous as I explained his bear claw luck. "Awesome," he said, reaching for the pastries. "Thanks, Bells."

I put his change beside the plate and couldn't help smiling. "Sure. Hungry?" I asked, watching half of one bear claw disappear in one of his bites.

"Starving," he said with his mouth full. "I saw you through the window and thought, hey - bear claws and Bella. No better combination on a Thursday morning."

Snorting a laugh, I wrapped my hands around my mug to warm my fingers. "I don't know, I'm kind of a downer right now. You might want to keep your distance."

He raised his eyebrows. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No, that's okay," I said, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "How's everything going with you?"

I was grateful that Jacob was a chatterbox; anything to take my mind off of my own angst was very welcome. I asked questions and he answered dutifully, from spilling stories about Billy and his new lady friend to a mountain lion attack on some poor hiker, to details on his upcoming wedding. When I brought up my parents' engagement, he hooted like a hyena.

"Dad's been waiting for that one," he said, licking a dot of icing off his finger. "He's all about planning the bachelor parties these days. First my pal Sam, then me, now Charlie. At least the old man has something to do."

"Yeah? What do you guys do for bachelor parties around here? Catch fish? Cut down trees like the big, bad men you are?" I teased.

"No, we _rain dance,_" Jacob joked, rolling his eyes. "Actually, we have a few drinks and go cliff diving."

"In that order?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"Only if you're tossed over the side," he said with a smirk. "Nah, we go easy. Sit around, have some food, be among good company. Nothing crazy. Worried we'd take your old man to the strip club?"

"I'm not one to mess with boy code, or anything," I said, cringing and laughing. "Just spare me the details. They haven't even set a date, but I'm sure Charlie will be up sooner rather than later. He always says how much he misses this place."

"No wonder, we're a fun bunch, " Jacob said with a toothy grin, proceeding to stuff the last piece of the second bear claw in his mouth. I snickered as a piece of almond stuck to his lip.

"Yeah, you're real charming," I said, pointing to my own lip. "You have a piece of … claw on your lip."

"Whur?" he said, garbled from the mouthful of pastry. He swiped at the wrong side of his mouth.

"Right here," I giggled, reaching to brush it away.

He chuckled, swallowing and taking a swig of his hot chocolate. "Charming? I'm irresistible."

"Yeah, I'll bet you-"

Then I froze, suddenly, because as I casually glanced toward the door, I saw Edward standing only a few feet away, watching me and Jacob with an expression I couldn't read. My smile fell, and even though I didn't frown, his eyes grew forlorn as though I had.

Jacob, oblivious, smiled and beckoned him over. "Hope he doesn't think I'm trying to steal his girl," he joked.

Tentatively, I waved, too. Edward gave us both a small, acknowledging gesture, then walked straight out the door.

"Shit," I muttered, feeling my stomach drop.

"Is he okay?" Jacob asked in concern, looking genuinely worried. "Crap, you don't think he really thinks we're-?"

"No," I said quickly, eyeing Edward as he walked further away from the café. "I'm sorry, Jake. He's not usually like that. It's… he's having a rough day."

He gave my arm a pat. "Hey, I'm not judging. Everyone has bad days. Go talk to him."

"I'll be right back," I promised, getting up and hurrying outside.

Edward hadn't gone far. He was leaning against his car, scuffing his shoe over the pavement. I approached him slowly, uncertain of how he was going to react.

"Hi," I offered.

"Hey," he said, eyes his flitting from the ground to me, and back down.

"You didn't call. I would-"

"I didn't think I needed to," he cut in, looking offended.

My mouth dropped. "I was going to say I would have come to pick you up if you wanted me to. You didn't have to walk all the way back here."

He didn't answer. He only creased his eyebrows and continued toeing at the concrete.

"You're mad," I blurted. "Aren't you? Because I was sitting with Jacob? He's engaged and an old friend. I wasn't flirting with him."

"I never said you were." He was calm, but there was an edge to his voice.

"You saw me touch his face, didn't you? Is that why you're upset? He had a piece of bear claw on his lip!" I knew I probably shouldn't be so defensive, but I'd be damned if he was going to get the idea in his head that I was getting cozy with someone else's fiancé. "And I have absolutely _no _idea why he's not wearing a shirt. He showed up like that."

Edward looked up, suddenly seeming vulnerable. "Okay."

I took a breath and hugged my waist, feeling uncomfortable. "Sorry," I said softly. "So… I guess you're mad at me for actually going in there without you."

He shook his head. "No."

"For not coming after you?"

"No."

"Then … why did you walk out?"

His breath was sharp as he inhaled, but his face twisted in a sort of misery, not anger. "I didn't think that you'd be with someone. I don't mean I think that Jacob's a bad guy, I just … I wanted to talk to you without anyone else around." I opened my mouth to speak, but he scoffed, adding, "That's the most selfish thing I've said all day."

"No, I get it," I stressed, reaching for his hand. He let me take it, but his fingers were unwilling to squeeze back. "You wanted a private conversation between you and me, not you, me, and someone you barely know."

He sighed, looking torn. "I'm just going to go back."

"I'll go with you."

"No, don't - go back and have some good company. My mood's shitty right now. You don't want to be around me, trust me."

"Hey," I said gently, not letting him walk away. "I don't buy it. You came looking for _me_." I could tell by the rueful look in his eyes that I had him there, and he knew it. "Let's go talk."

He rocked on his heels, hunching his shoulders as the wind blew. "You should probably go tell Jacob, then."

I nodded, glancing toward the coffee shop. "Promise you'll actually be here when I get back?"

I didn't think he could look any worse, but my stupid mouth helped to prove otherwise. I mumbled an apology before walking back inside, collecting my things, and saying a quick, apologetic goodbye to Jake.

-:-

Even though I tried, Edward wouldn't talk on the ride back to the lodge, except to tell me he didn't feel like it anymore. We didn't talk over sandwiches in the lobby's café, either. Determined, I planned to drag him up the stairs to talk as soon as our lunch plates were cleared, but then a blissfully ignorant Doris whisked her way through the tables and asked Edward if he wouldn't mind giving her sons a hand unloading firewood in the parking lot. He obliged, giving me a soft "See you later" before leaving me standing in the middle of the lobby.

I took out my restlessness in the kitchen, kneading fresh bread dough, rolling pie crust, and slicing cubes of cornbread for stuffing. Tom kept giving me things to do, eyeing me with what was probably curious sympathy, and thankfully, didn't ask questions. After a considerable amount of time, I thanked him for letting me distract myself and brushed off my clothes, and when I walked back into the lobby, I couldn't _believe _that it was already after five o'clock.

Edward wasn't around, but Doris was sitting behind her desk, scribbling away on a pad of paper. I walked over, quietly clearing my throat so I wouldn't startle her. "Hey Doris?"

She looked up, giving me a warm smile. "Why, Isabella, did you fall into the mixer?"

I laughed shyly, well aware of my flour-spotted face. "Almost. I was just wondering if you'd seen Edward? I completely lost track of time. Do you know if he finished helping with the firewood?"

"Oh, yes, honey, he did," she said, placing her pen to the side. "My boys can get pretty chatty - they take after me, after all! I think they talked him into going to the pub down the street. You know men - manual labor and beer!"

I chuckled along with her. "Yeah, my dad is all about that, too."

Good. Guy time. Edward needed some of that. And if he was feeling social, that was a good sign, too.

"I'm sure they'll be back soon," she said, glancing toward the door. "My sons are in their thirties and I still pester them not to stay out late after dark!"

"Oh, it's fine," I said, cracking a grin and gesturing to my clothes. "Gives me some time to go clean up. Thanks, Doris."

It was wonderful to finally immerse myself in the steaming-hot water, and I sighed heavily as my muscles began to relax. I washed my hair, scrubbed dough out from under my fingernails, and lathered myself in lemon crème body wash, willing myself not to think too much. I lingered, shaving my legs and drawing pictures on the fogged glass - basically wasting time until the water ran cold.

After I dressed and dried my hair, I put on my headphones and stared at the ceiling, counting the small cracks in the paint until I started to go glassy-eyed. I got up, slipped on my coat, and grabbed my keys. I needed a drive. Maybe Angela was home; if Edward was having guy time, I sure as hell could use some girl time. As soon as I took my headphones out of my ears, I heard thumping, followed by a muffled curse coming from the other side of the wall.

_Jesus. What now?_

I hurried to Edward's room, not even bothering to knock as I opened the door.

My eyes bulged as I took in the scene. His normally tidy room was covered in clothes, scattered magazines, and other personal trinkets of his. The dresser drawers were open and the bedspread was hanging off the side, and even more surprisingly, his black bags were overturned, spilled onto the floor. The only thing that wasn't visible was him.

"Edward?" I called, glancing toward the bathroom. Sure enough, he poked his head out from behind the door, giving me a guarded look before eyeing me up and down.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Not anymore," I said, sticking my keys in my coat pocket. "What… _what _are you doing?"

He seemed unfocused as he blinked, surveying the room as though he hadn't realized it was such a mess. "I was just … looking for a shirt."

"Which one?" I asked doubtfully.

"This one," he said, stepping out, bare-chested, with a green t-shirt in his hands. "I found it."

"Oh… well, good," I said, taking a deep breath. I cut my inhale short, though, as I was met with a wave of unpleasant odor, a mixture of sweat and… liquor? I didn't hide my shock very well, because he sighed shortly and grumbled, "I know, I smell terrible. I was sweating, okay?"

"Are you drunk?" I asked quietly. This wasn't like the carnival; he wasn't simply warm and fuzzy, he was heavy-lidded and irritable. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Yeah," he answered without looking at me. He scooped up an armload of clothes from the floor and threw them on top of a bag, including the one he'd claimed to be searching for. "I kind of felt like letting go. Forgetting." He shook his head. "Like I haven't done enough of that today, huh?"

I was silent as he kicked his belongings out of his way. He seemed distracted as he glanced around, almost confused.

"Are you okay?"

He gave me a pointed stare, annoyance suddenly painting his face. "Do I look okay?"

"No, you don't," I said honestly.

"Well, there's your answer."

He grabbed another handful of clothes and tried to brush past me, into the bathroom, but I reached for his wrist, stopping him. "Can we just… talk? I don't know. I can't stand that you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Bella, I'm mad at myself," he muttered, tossing the clothes onto the sink. "And I really need a shower."

I managed not to argue and backed up to the bed, hoisting myself to sit on the shambled covers. "Okay. I'll wait."

He took a slow breath. "I might go to bed early. I don't exactly feel that great."

I nodded. "All right."

"All right," he repeated, then closed himself inside the bathroom.

As he showered, I picked up his clothes, tossing what I knew to be clean back in the dresser and stuffed anything dirty in one of his empty bags. Luckily, I remembered what he'd already worn over the past couple days. I shook out the sheets and spread the comforter, smoothed the pillows and stacked them according to size, doing everything and anything that I could to pass the time. At last, when the room was in order again, I placed my coat and keys by the fireplace and sat on my side of the bed, playing with my fingernails and waiting for him to emerge from the bathroom.

When he finally did, he paused, staring at the bed, the floor, me. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well… I figured you didn't feel up to cleaning right now."

Edward ran his hand through his damp hair, looking exhausted. "No, I guess not." When he climbed in bed, he slouched against the pillows, still seeming upset. "So, you're staying?"

"I was going to. Is that okay?" I paid attention to his eyes, looking for truth.

He shrugged his shoulders. No other answer. I closed my eyes for a moment, squeezing my temples. He'd never been so standoffish, so quick to brush me off. I felt invisible and it stung.

"I'm not really sure what you're thinking… but I'm sorry if I-"

"Bella, if you say you're sorry one more time," he said, chuckling humorlessly under his breath, "I might jump out the window."

I puffed my cheeks, fighting the urge to demand to know what the hell he wanted me to say, then. Honestly, the air in the room was so tight and awkward, I felt like maybe I was missing something that I _should _be sorry for. "You know there's an actual word for that? Defenestration. Weird, right?"

I had a shred of hope that he might crack a smile and give us both a break from this tense suffocation. Just for a second to let me know that we were okay.

"That's not what it means. Defenestrating is _throwing _someone out of a window. Jumping out a window would probably fall under suicide."

_Ouch. So much for a smile._

"Oh." I stared at my hands, thinking that he sounded like he kind of wanted to throw _me _out the window. "Sorry."

I realized my mistake just as he laughed bitterly, and the sound made my stomach hurt. Apologies were an impulse when I was insecure; I couldn't help it. He got under the covers and turned toward the wall, leaving me to face his back. I chewed on my lip, feeling the urge to cry rise and retreat, as if my emotions couldn't make up their mind. When I couldn't take the silence anymore, I offered glumly, "I can leave."

"You don't have to," he responded, listless. I watched him tug the comforter further over his shoulder, as if he was trying to hide himself from my view. "But you can if you want."

"Don't you think it would be better to talk about this first?" I asked, wishing he would just give in and help me out, here.

He sighed audibly and was quiet for a long time. Internally, I argued with myself, wondering if coaxing him to talk was the right thing; maybe I had already pushed too hard. I was curious what Mr. Miller would have done. "I'm tired," he finally said, breaking my spinning thoughts. "Whether you leave or stay, will you turn off the light?"

A handful of seconds passed before I could find my voice. "Okay."

Even if he really wanted me to go, I couldn't leave. I just couldn't. Reluctantly, I stood up and walked to the dresser to grab some nightclothes. I changed quietly, folding my clothes and gently placing them atop my keys and coat, afraid to even breathe too loudly. Edward didn't say another word and the only sound came from the floor, creaking softly under my footfalls.

"Do you want a drink of water or anything?" I asked before entering the bathroom. He didn't answer, and I wasn't stupid enough to believe he'd fallen asleep so fast; he was ignoring me.

Once I was behind the cover of the door, I put my hand over my lips, suppressing the cries that would undoubtedly echo off the tiles. My tears, however, fell without a sound.

-:-

The swirling clouds were sharp with color, painting the sky in dizzy strokes. A storm was just in the distance, peeking through the gaps with glowing eyes, bolts of lightning waiting to flare. It was coming for me; no matter where I turned, it was there, watching. Waiting for its chance to hurt me. The white-hot light buzzed in impatience, piercing further through the fog and burning its way toward me, even though I ran as fast as I could. I was its target, and I felt it on the ends of my hair like static. It seared through my eyelids… so, so bright it hurt. I tried to look away, but I was consumed, pinned by its glare. The charge was sharp and quick, crisscrossing across the sky like a crack in an earthquake. The thunder roared with a growling laugh as the electric jolt struck me between the eyes.

I gasped as I woke, wincing immediately at the tingling pain shooting through the bridge of my nose, across my forehead. My hands shot to my head, feeling for the burn mark that my dream would have left as a token, proving that nightmares could be real. I felt nothing, just my skin, but the sting was still there. _How_…

Something struggled beside me and I yelped in surprise as another blow came crashing onto my chest. Instinctually, I grabbed at what was touching me, trying to push it away when I realized what was happening.

I wasn't still caught in a dream, Edward was. I was holding onto his arm. He was writhing, moaning low in his throat, slashing the silence of the night with a tortured, muted scream.

I scrambled to sit up and reached for the light, shooting my hand out so fast, I knocked it right off the table with a crash. Cursing, I turned toward Edward, reaching blindly to stop him from thrashing.

"Edward," I said, taking a hold of one of his hands. His arm felt locked, solid, and barely gave into the pressure I put on it. "Wake up. It's a dream, it's-"

God, the _sound _he was making was terrible, like he was being ripped apart. I shook him, desperate now, and felt for his face. It was wet, covered in sweat or tears, or both.

"Please, honey," I pleaded, trying to calm him, smoothing his hair and tapping his face in the dark. "Please wake up. It's not real, you're just dreaming. Wake-"

It happened so fast, _so _fast, I didn't even have time to cry out. As I leaned over him, his hands suddenly dug into me, one into my arm, another into my shoulder. I felt like I was somersaulting as he yanked me out of bed and pushed me against the wall. The handles of the dresser clanked in echoes, starting over each time I lost my footing and slammed into it.

"Edward!" I almost screamed, my voice caught in my throat. "It's me! It's Bella! Can you hear me?" He could have been sleepwalking for all I knew. "It's me. It's me…"

I couldn't see him, so I knew he couldn't see me, but with every word I said aloud, I felt his grip slowly loosen. He was shaking so badly I could feel the vibration through my entire body.

"It's Bella," I repeated, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "It's me. You were dreaming. It's okay. It's all right."

His breath began to come in gasps, only inches away from my face, but he still didn't let go. I gently encircled my hands around his wrists, tentatively lowering his arms. His pulse was racing so fast, it scared me.

"Bella?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I whispered back, letting go of him to grasp and pull the curtain, praying that the moonlight would flood inside and let him see. It was barely enough, but it allowed me to make out his face … and the heartbreaking trails of tears that covered it. "Can you see me?"

He stared at me for a few moments, studying me, and my heartbeat was hammering so hard, I felt dizzy. Without warning, he yanked his hands away and stumbled to the side, hitting the opposite wall.

"Oh, my God," he gasped, panting loudly, his face crumpling.

I quickly pulled the other curtains open so we could see better. "Come here," I said when I finished, holding out my hand. "You're okay."

Instead of taking my hand, he held out his own. "_No_. N-no. I - I had you b-by the throat," he stammered, leaning against the dresser, his knees buckling as he started to slip on the bed sheet that was tangled around his leg. "I was choking you- "

"No, you weren't. You had your hand on my _shirt_," I interrupted, stepping closer. "It was a split second and you didn't know it was me. An accident. I'm not even hurt."

"I don't care," he choked, trembling as he slid to the floor. "Get out."

I cringed, exhaling shortly. "Get … get out?"

"Yes, _now_," Edward said quickly, digging his fingers into his hair. "Go to your own room. You can't stay here."

_Go to my room. Right._

"What are you talking about?" I dropped, sitting on my heels and reaching out for his arm. "I'm not leaving you by your-"

"Jesus _Christ_, Bella, go," he growled, and the rise and fall of his chest was much too shallow_. _He was already losing it. "Don't make me yell. Please. Please."

He was begging, sounding on the edge of sobbing, for me to go. Like I could _actually _stand up and leave him.

"You would never leave me alone like this." I spoke firmly because I knew better than to be scared or cower under his words. I was familiar enough with his disorder, now, to understand that he would be okay - no matter how distressed he got, no matter his pain and wheezing, and anger and fear - he would calm, sooner or later. "And I won't leave you. Don't even try it."

He rammed his fist against the wall with a sharp bang and even though I flinched, I didn't move. I didn't dare touch him, either - this was the bad kind, the heavy, heart-wrenching type of panic that terrorized him. And right now, he wasn't seeing me - not with the way he was harshly rubbing his eyes, moaning and recoiling over flashes of something only he remembered. "It's okay," I said carefully, giving him space. "It's not real. Open your eyes and look at me."

"Stop," he panted, whispering. He brushed at his shirt and arms as though he was covered in something, keeping his eyes tightly closed and fighting the nightmares that were clawing behind them. "Stop, stop… I can't - I didn't mean… oh, my God…"

I shakily raked my fingers through my own hair, barely resisting the urge to take his hand or pull him into my arms. "Edward, open your eyes," I repeated, trying to keep a steady voice. "Can you-"

He was scrambling away from my side before I could finish. The bathroom light lit the room for only a moment before the slam of the door, leaving me in darkness again. Moments later, the sounds of water and creaking pipes made the walls come alive. I crumpled the discarded sheet between my fingers, staring up at the bed where, only hours ago, I'd been listening to the sounds of his peaceful breathing. Sighing, I stood up and remade the bed, which was unnecessary, but it passed some time. I knew he needed a few minutes to collect himself before I could attempt to talk to him.

I counted to sixty a few times before I quietly entered the bathroom. His clothes were haphazardly scattered, leaving a very short trail to the enclosed shower. The glass panes were already clouded with steam, speckled with few water trails, and Edward's flesh-colored shadow stood, hunching inside. Over the raucous rush of water in the pipes and the spray coming from the wall, I could hear his guttural, groaning pants.

"Edward…" I assumed he was already aware of my presence, but I couldn't help breathing his name in sympathy. There was no calculation of the pain that rippled through him during times like these, but it always seemed to be more than he was capable of handling. It wasn't fair. "Are you okay?"

He never answered and I understood. He didn't have words to give me; not yet. I sat on the closed toilet, pulling my knees to my chest and letting my heels rest on the cold porcelain. And I waited. I waited for his breath to slow and for the right moment to try again. Eventually, a blanket of misty steam swirled throughout the bathroom, creating a calming thickness. I could feel my porous hair begin to frizz and curl from the effect and after a few minutes passed, I realized that Edward had become silent.

I stood up and stepped to the back of the shower, leaning my forehead on the warm glass. The thumping echo of the water was prominent, but my heartbeat was resounding, urging me with every beat to recover the pieces of his own heart that had broken, relapsed. After a few gnaws on my lip, I pulled off my pajamas, letting them fall atop his discarded ones, and slid the shower door open.

It was almost ghostly seeing him standing in the vapors, nearly obscured by the humid fog. He was facing the stream of water, which was pouring over his shoulders and back, painting a rosy flush down his skin. He had one hand on the wall while his other was tucked under his chin, maybe, or over his mouth - I couldn't see.

Tentatively, I reached out and lightly stroked his shoulder blade, only to promptly yank my hand back. The water was _scalding_, much too hot for anyone to stand under - and yet, Edward was. Wincing, I stepped closer, reaching around his waist to grab the nozzle. I turned it with a twist of my wrist and carefully tested the water with my fingers, waiting as it slowly cooled to a moderately warm current. Instead of bothering him with useless questions about why he had the desire to blister the skin off his shoulders, I gently grasped his waist and leaned over to press my lips to the center of his back, and the water rushed over my head, wetting my hair.

"Talk to me," I pleaded. I wanted him to pour the hurt into me because if I could carry it, I would. His head shook, giving me my answer, and I wrapped my arms around him, begging with a gentle clutch. "Please. It hurts to see you like this."

I could feel his chest rise and expand with ragged breath, and he still didn't speak. "Will you tell me what it was about?" I asked again.

"Rainbows," he snapped.

I tried not to sigh, keeping my cheek against his back and letting the water run over my face. I was naïve when it came to situations like this. And given the iffy atmosphere before we'd both gone to sleep, I wasn't sure if he wanted me anywhere near him, either. Then again, he probably wouldn't stand still and let me put my arms around him if he didn't.

"It doesn't matter," he continued, his frame shaking as he inhaled. "Saying it out loud won't make it go away_."_

"I didn't expect it would," I said, running my hand up his back. "But it might ease … something."

"I told you. If I tell you, you'll wish you never-"

"I'm asking, anyway."

He turned, finally, and I realized he was breathing through tremors of building sobs that were threatening to burst free any moment. "You want to hear everything, then? That when I fall asleep, the dream that's been gutting me, making me sick - the one where I see myself killing _you? _That you scream, _scream _for me to stop, but I tear into you, shredding you to pieces with my own hands, with my-"

"Shh, stop." I put my hand to his mouth, shushing him as his voice rose, thick with distress. "It was a nightmare. It wasn't you."

Edward shook his head, his chest hitching with short, reflexive gasps. "It's too real," he said, leaning against the wall and sliding a hand over his eyes. "I feel it after, like there's blood all over me. I'm not - I have no control."

He lost it, then, his last bit of pretense shattering, and he slid to the floor of the shower, burying his head in his arms. "I can't do this," he cried, his shoulders shaking. "I just want it to stop."

Water sprayed over us both as I knelt on the floor and pulled him against me, wrapping my arms around his chest. It felt so familiar to the first time I'd witnessed him locked in such panic and anguish, when he'd collapsed in my arms and the rain had poured down on us; I couldn't think of which was worse.

"I know," I whispered to him, slicking his hair away from his dripping face.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed against my neck, and I couldn't speak because I was crying, too. I had dreamt of it before - the horror of waking and thinking my hands were covered in his blood. But in my dream, I hadn't been the one to do it. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to see myself hurt him, even if it was only a delusion.

I continued to soothe him, gently kissing his head and murmuring '_It's okay' _when I could find my voice, and listened to the echoing splatter against the floor. Eventually, when he did calm, he straightened, angled awkwardly in the small space, and sighed in exhaustion. "If only I would have-"

I waited. "What?" I asked, tucking my wet hair behind my ears. As I moved, he reached for my hand - or no, my arm - and gently turned it, revealing dark pink finger marks, each crowned with a little, red half-moon. His nails had gotten me, too; I hadn't even felt the pain.

"I did that," he said in a thick voice, gruff and clotted with shame.

I put my other hand on top of the mark, shaking my head gently. "It's fine," I assured him, managing a smile and cupping his cheek when he started to protest. "Edward, come on. I've given you worse when we… you know. This is nothing."

He wasn't buying it. His devastated eyes sunk deeper into sorrow and his poor, lovely face crumpled all over again as he cradled his head. "No. It's not nothing."

"You said it yourself. You didn't know it was me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not." His voice broke like a rip of silk, tearing my heart in two. "Just leave me alone."

I lingered, stroking his dripping hair, waiting for him to stop, to breathe and let me help him up. He kept pushing me away, though, banishing my hands from his skin as he closed his eyes and silently sobbed against the tile.

Finally, I stood up and turned off the shower. I grabbed two hanging towels from the rack outside the glass door and wrapped myself in one, and placed the other around him, just under his neck. He was still as I rubbed the soft fabric over his skin to warm him, drying and soaking up the rivulets of water that seemed to keep falling.

"Come on," I said softly.

"Please," he rasped. "Just give me a minute."

Nodding, I reluctantly stood and gathered my discarded pajamas, and even though I didn't want to leave him alone, I did. I managed to find my way to the wall and pick up and turn on the lamp, then towel-dried my hair, leaving it slightly damp and redressed. Feeling sad and fatigued, I sunk into the armchair by the window and pulled my knees to my chest, draping Edward's coat over me. Ducking my head and breathing in the scent, _his _scent, made me feel a little better.

Even though I was still, my thoughts tumbled in turmoil. I felt terrible for him; his day had been awful, and I couldn't help but feel like it was all my fault. Sure, he would have realized it was his mother's birthday in time, but I had brought it up. Then, I wallowed in the coffee shop when I probably should have gone after him, no matter what he said. Now, _I _was the one haunting him while he slept.

_You have no control of it anymore than he does_.

Somehow, that still didn't make me feel better.

I stayed in the chair, staring out the window, until a creak sounded across from me and I turned as Edward came from the bathroom. He stared at me covered in his coat and I felt stiff, unsure of what he was thinking, of the meaning behind his unreadable gaze. He didn't speak and I slowly stood, placing his coat on the chair and taking a step back from his belongings. With his cautious eyes watching me the way they were, I suddenly felt like I was intruding.

Letting out a small sigh, I went to him, my feet causing the floor to creak in low, even beats. I put my arms around him, pressing my face to his chest and squeezing tightly but gently, trying with all of my might to silently speak, _I'm here for you_. So, when I felt his hands grasp my shoulders, I relaxed - only to immediately stiffen as he pushed me away.

I froze, then, a cold, awful air in the space he'd just created, and I looked up at him, still clinging to his arms.

He inhaled shortly and said, "I can't have you in here."

I took in his statement, trying to assess his face, but couldn't find a reason. I wanted to ask him what he meant, why he would say that, but all I could do was inwardly damn my throat for the weak, choked sounds it was making instead of speech.

He focused his gaze over my head for a moment before releasing my shoulders and sliding my hands away from him, too. "I mean it, Bella."

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? My feet wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't let me step forward or back, and my mouth couldn't form words, either. I simply stared with wounded eyes, my shoulders taut, but his expression didn't change.

But he had no problem speaking. "I appreciate you being there for me, but I need to be alone."

I hated this. His voice was solid, aloof, formal… and so achingly familiar of before - times of heartache and hidden meaning. I hated when his eyes became vacant, the emotionless words that spilled from his mouth, the glass-shattering pain he was trying to hide… all of it, I loathed.

"Please, don't make me ask again."

He stepped to the side then, as if giving me room to leave, to walk away. He took another short breath, translating, '_That means get out_. _Now_.' Seeing him look so stoic and cold was gut-wrenching, but I nodded, finally. I was okay with giving him space, but I still felt like I was abandoning him, when I knew, deep down, that was one of his worst fears. I slowly slunk to the door and stopped, turning back, my stomach painfully tight. "Will I see you in the morning, then?"

He narrowed his eyes, running a hand over his face and allowing it to settle on his chest. I counted twelve beats of my heart before he spoke. "No," he confirmed in a whisper, refusing to face me. "I can't do this anymore."

"Can't … do what?" There was a chance he was just venting - I knew how tired he was of waking up in the middle of the night, stuck in a torturous haze. But I followed his gaze straight to the corner of the room - the corner where his bags sat, untouched - and a knife went straight to my heart.

"Don't you dare," I choked, and it was my turn to feel as if the room was collapsing upon me. "You won't leave. You wouldn't. Right?" He didn't respond, and after a gap of chilling silence, I felt like I had my answer. "_Edward_. You _can't_."

He was looking at me, now, his eyes menacing. "Don't tell me what I can't do."

If there was a way for him to silence anyone, it was with _that _voice. Bitter, cutting, malicious. Gooseflesh prickled across my arms and I hugged my waist, feeling like a scolded child. Not to mention, I was horror-stricken at what he was insinuating: leaving.

"You just had a bad night," I said, imploring, ready to fall to my knees and beg. And it was true! He'd been okay - not perfect, but _okay _- and this was the only time since the _first _time that I'd ever seen him lose such control. "You're getting better-"

"I'm _never _better, Bella! Not ever!"

"Look at me, please?" I pleaded, reaching for his hand. "I know you're upset, but please don't feel like you have to run away. You mean everything to me... You-"

"Oh, _save _it, Bella, I'm your fucking charity case!"

It was like being stabbed. My breath left my lungs in a painful exhale, a whimper caught on the end like a struggling fish. I had to swallow a few times before I could speak. "You know you don't mean that."

"Right. Because I don't know a goddamn thing."

"Edward, I've never said that. Stop it." He ignored me. I hated my eyes and my tear ducts, and everything about my emotions to make me look and sound like I couldn't handle this. I _knew _this wasn't for real, not really. How could I blame him for being upset? I couldn't.

"This morning, you-" I stopped to swallow. "You were happy. _We _were, both of us. And I didn't expect a bump-less road, you know? Rough patches happen to everyone."

"You can't even sleep next to me without me hurting you."

"I already told you, it-"

"How do you put up with this?" he interrupted, and I wasn't sure if the grate of his voice was due to frustration or sadness, or both. "Why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I love you." I put my hand on his chest, feeling his pulse underneath my palm. "I love everything about you."

In a voice I hardly recognized, he sneered, and lashed out with, "Love? Let's not fool ourselves."

Time stopped, then, and so did my breath, turning my chest to stone. "Stop it," I whispered again, my throat constricting. He wouldn't go there. I'd felt it inside him that morning when he'd held me in his arms, every single time we kissed or made love, I knew it was for real. "You don't mean-"

"I do mean it."

_Sticks and stones may break my bones…_

Over the past two weeks, his eyes had crinkled with smiles and the sweet lilt of his voice had harmonized _I love you's _and whispered worship, body and soul. That was fire. _This _was ice; cruel, fraudulent ice. I shook my head, unwilling to accept what he just said. So, I told him. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want. You're my distraction. That's all."

_And words… break everything. _

Distraction. Cover-up_. _Diversion_. _That was me_,_ my definition.

"And I-"

A vicious slap of skin upon skin interrupted him, and my palm felt scalded as it left his cheek. Edward barely moved, merely blinking at the force of my hand, before turning his gaze to the windows, not bothering to finish his thought. I, however, was in utter disbelief of what I'd just done. I stood, shaking, waiting to see if he was going to yell. Maybe he would tell me what a super bitch I was and that I made Jessica Stanley look as though she could sprout a halo… but he was a statue. Unmoving, unblinking, unfeeling. Cold and hard, and that's the way he wanted it.

"Really, that's a fact?" I finally demanded, barely hanging on to composure. "_Tell me_!"

I knew he was distraught and couldn't, _wouldn't _mean it. But each second was like the scorch of a match sizzling into my skin, and when he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Are you going to go, or what?" an inferno took over the match. Maybe he did mean it. Maybe I'd been living an illusion all along.

My eyes blurred with tears and I stood in silence before I forced myself to speak. My throat felt raw and shredded as I rasped, heaving with oncoming sobs, "_Fuck _you."

Barely able to see or breathe, I ran. I slammed his door and instead of bolting down the stairs or barricading myself in my room, I grabbed a hold of the railing and squeezed the iron bar, seething. I didn't want to lie in bed and bawl my eyes out, or flee to the comfort of the lobby or the cold, shadowed Entertainment Hall. There were too many memories and moments of us, and right here wasn't much better, but I really had no choice unless I decided to stalk to the gross, possibly-STD-infested darkness of the hallway that led away from our doors.

I couldn't believe what I'd said to him - that I'd _hit _him - but _his _declaration had been a shock, far more piercing than anything I could have conjured up. If he wanted to throw words around of what he thought he was to me, then fine - it hurt, but I _knew _what I felt, and that was nothing but love. But for him to call me… _that_?

Tears were right on the verge of pouring down my cheeks and I felt sick. I wanted to believe that he was lying, that his emotions had detonated and poison had filled the air between us, and it was so thick and excruciating for him that he just wanted to scream things out of frustration and agony. But _how _could he have managed to utter those words? They were terrible. Hateful.

I had a decision to make. I could go back in there and scream a bit more, or plead with him to forgive me and to love me back, and probably cry until I no longer had a voice. I could go to my room and lose my shit, there… or I could run.

One, two, or three. Three. Yes. Running. I could do that.

I was not _going _to cry. I was going to leave. Not for good, but I needed to get out of the lodge, away from everything - from him.

_Now. Go now_.

I needed keys. My coat. And they were in _his _room.

I didn't waste time debating whether or not I should go back in and retrieve them. Instead, I started down the stairs, taking two at a time, and when I bounded into the dark, empty lobby, I headed straight for the Lost-and-Found box behind Doris's desk. Thankfully, it was still there - a bulky, cat-printed parka which I'd found a few days ago, left behind by one of the guests. I yanked it on over my pajamas and stormed into the kitchen, grabbing the pair of rain boots that Tom always kept around when we had to take the trash to the dumpsters on rainy days. They were huge, but I couldn't go anywhere in my bare feet, after all. Once I had tied the laces as tight as they would go, I tramped through the café and to the door, outside into the misty night. And then, I went straight to Edward's car, bent down to retrieve his spare key, and let myself in.

Grand theft auto or not, I didn't fucking care. He could report me all he wanted, but he could wait a few goddamn hours before leaving Forks. Before leaving me.

I drove to the beach without a thought. I figured it would be cold, quiet, abandoned, and it was. Perfect.

Wind cut through my pajama bottoms as I walked over the squishy sand. I thought about doubling back to grab a blanket out of the car, but I settled for tucking my legs under the bulky coat, swaddled and folded like a padded package. I sat, listening to the crash and swell of the agitated waves and blustered air above me, around me. Everything was so dark and unpromising; even the moon was veiled by thick and fluctuating clouds. The moment a small moonbeam would peek through, it was sucked back into the sky.

I restlessly wiggled my toes inside the ill-fitting boots, having too much anxious energy that was desperate to be burned. Bundled up, I wasn't cold, so I didn't shiver, but my lips still moved and twitched in silent unease, in wretched grief, asking _why, why, why_.

As my eyes adjusted to the night, I focused on the water that was surging in the distance and lapping at the surf. Swell, spray, slosh. It was raw, rhythmic music. Innate poetry in motion.

_The heart can think of no devotion - _

I sucked in a breath, the biting air invading my throat like a knife.

_Greater than being shore to the ocean._

"Stop," I told myself aloud, barely whispering.

_Holding the curve of one position - Counting an endless repetition.**_

I pressed my knuckles to my mouth, unable to stop repeating the poem in my head, the one Edward had printed at the bottom of my letter to him. The one that had given me the extra push to return to him that night, almost a month ago. So fitting, then… so painful, now. He'd loved me then, maybe. And I didn't doubt that he ever did. But now… now, I was just someone who made him forget. I was a Band-Aid over an old wound that, sometimes, still bled. And he didn't need a bandage, he needed stitches.

I wasn't good enough.

I lost myself, then, sobbing into the sleeves of the parka and feeling my heart sink into my stomach, swallowed whole by anguish. With every aching breath, freezing air slashed through my lungs and into my chest, carving additional pain to the internal wound with its phantom, icy knives. Hours could have gone by, for all I knew; the only thing I heard was the pound of blood in my ears and the ragged cries from my throat. Not until-

"My dear girl, why are you crying?"

The smooth voice cut through all sounds, making me gasp in surprise and whip my head to the left. I peered blearily through my tears, frozen to the spot, and suddenly, scared to death. Who…?

A man. It was a man, tall and dark, looking as menacing and magnificent as a demonic statue, and he was standing above me - right next to me. I knew it was just the black of night that cloaked us both that made him seem so, but a stranger suddenly appearing out of nowhere - on a deserted beach, no less - didn't exactly comfort me.

_Goodbye, Bella. Hello, Investigation Discovery._

I was too shocked to speak. It was too dark to really make out much of what he looked like, but I watched the shape of his head cock slightly, as if silently asking me a question. He had, but I couldn't recall what he'd just said.

"Are you all right?" he tried again. He didn't sound as threatening as his appearance made him out to be, but my stomach felt like lead - something in my gut was telling me to be afraid of this man. It took me a few moments before I managed to rasp, "Yes."

_Now, please don't kill me and go away_.

He hummed softly, drawing out a smooth '_m' _in tandem with a whistle of wind. Furthering my alarm, he suddenly lowered himself beside me, fluidly dropping into the sand with not even so much as a sound. My mouth hung slightly ajar as I watched him with narrowed eyes, afraid to move or glance away. How long had he been watching me before approaching, and what the _hell _was he doing here in the middle of the night?

At first, he simply drew in a breath and stared at the black ocean, but then abruptly turned to me, gazing at me with ghostly eyes that reflected strangely in the almost-moonlight. I couldn't make out the color, but they seemed… off.

"Oh, how rude of me," he said glibly, offering me a hand that seemed to glow in the darkness. "I'm James."

-:-

* * *

*Chandler Bing is a character of the television show _Friends_. He hated Thanksgiving. ;)

**Devotion, by Robert Frost.

Thanks to queenofgrey, who I wailed to over this. A lot. And annetteinoz for her previous pre-reading which I forgot to mention last time!

Don't hate me yet, okay? Please? Remember, Edward has a mental illness which causes him to be emotionally volatile - he lashes out when he's scared or confused, and he had hurtful buildup to a terrible moment (please feel free to google PTSD's symptoms if you want more info - the Mayo Clinic has a great site) and Bella isn't a doctor - she's doing whatever she can to understand and be there for him, but she got her feelings hurt and reacted impulsively. They're flawed characters. Forgive them? Maybe? If you still want to ream me out, well, I guess I can't stop you. ;)

xoxo


	32. And the Air Stirs

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I guess I own a semi-tough, rhinoceros-sort-of skin, now, because I was expecting monstrous rage and flouncing all around because of the last chapter. Turns out, I didn't even need it because you guys are amazing, but I'll save it for later, just in case. ;)

Chapter 31 Recap: Well, things started off nicely, at least. Edward agreed to join Bella for Thanksgiving and both were in high spirits, and then Bella went and rattled off the day's date, and Edward realized he'd forgotten it was his deceased mom's birthday. His emotions went a little haywire. Bella spent the rest of the afternoon alone, excluding her brief meet up with Jacob, and things were still unsettled when she and Edward retired for the evening. Edward's nightmare made things a shit-ton worse, enough to cause a pretty harsh fight between them. Bella left, devastated, and went to the beach to cry it out. Along came a spider, who sat down beside her…

(I also don't own Little Miss Muffet.)

-:-

The man called James held out his hand, as if meeting people on the beach in the middle of the night was normal. For some reason, I didn't want to snub him; it wasn't about not wanting to be rude, but more about going with the flow until I could decide how to get back to the car without him catching me. Reluctantly, I slid my hand into his, and as numb as my skin was from the wind, his fingers felt even colder.

"And your name?"

_Don't say it_.

"Ann," I lied. Renée's middle name. Edward's mom's, too.

"Ann?" he repeated in a strange tone, then gave a slight scoff of a laugh as if the name amused him. I flinched as he hooked a finger under my chin, but didn't dare protest. "Ann… such a simple name. With a lovely face like yours, I would have expected Séraphine. Maybe Gabriella."

Jesus, what a line. Maybe he wasn't dangerous at all. Maybe he was just an eHarmony failure for being such a mammoth creeper.

"One might even think of you as an Isabella."

I let out a shaky breath. _Just a coincidence. It's a popular name_. "No," I said, swallowing my fear. "Just Ann."

It was hard to take my eyes off of him. As dark as it was, his eyes held a steadfast gaze, almost imprisoning. He seemed young enough, older than I was, but not by many years. I wanted to scoot away and give myself space, but then the cold tip of his finger moved from my chin to my neck, stopping and pressing into my skin.

"Your pulse is racing," James said curiously. "Are you nervous, Ann?"

"Is - is there a right answer to that?" I asked dumbly, frozen by his stare.

"I'm making you uncomfortable," he stated, as though I might not have realized it myself. He drew his hand back and grasped a handful of sand instead. "Pardon me, I was simply concerned. I never expected to find someone else out at this hour. Especially not a girl sobbing herself silly."

I slid my legs out from the parka, trying to adjust to a position that would allow me to easily stand. If I got the chance, I was going to run. "Oh, that," I played along. "Love hurts, I guess."

_Shit. Why did you say that? Say you lost your damn dog_.

"Indeed, it does." He sounded satirical, curling his lips like I was missing a joke. "Boy troubles?"

I nodded slowly, keeping my hands at the ready. Charlie always taught me to go for the throat, then the nose. Punch one, punch two, and then run and scream for help. Only, I was in a isolated area and didn't have my cell phone. I _needed _to make it to the car or I was probably going to be cut up into little pieces of Bella and sprinkled over this guy's backyard.

"We have something in common, then," he continued, grinning.

"What's that?" I asked, waiting for the opportunity to catch him off guard. It was hard, though, since he barely took his eyes off of me.

His expression flickered from self-satisfied to steely. "I'm heartbroken, too."

_Oh, are you really, Ted Bundy?_

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly, experimentally edging an inch or two away from him. He didn't react. "That's … unfortunate."

"I'm afraid so," he responded. Without looking, he picked up a lone splinter of driftwood and twirled it between his fingers. "You see, a long time ago, there was a girl who … fascinated me. No one understood her - people can be so insolent, you know - but I adored her. I _knew _she could be something special."

I wished he would break his gaze, even for just one second. The longer he kept his eyes fixated on me, the deeper the strange feeling brewing in my stomach became - a mixture of discomfort and … intrigue. I didn't like it.

"What happened?" _Why are you _answering _him?_

"I made her mine, of course," James said, as if this was blatantly obvious. "Wouldn't you do the same? Go after what you want?"

I finally tore my stare away from him and looked down, clearing my throat. "Maybe," I said with a small shrug. "If I thought I had a chance." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was still watching me, and even though I tried to ignore it, I felt a strange compulsion to look at him again, like a persistent, gravitational pull. When I did, his eyes seemed to burn into mine.

"Ah, yes. Well, for awhile, it did seem like we had a great chance. She was more than I'd hoped for in a mate."

_Mate_? Who said things like that anymore? Christ, I needed to focus. I needed to sock him in the face and run for my life.

"But all good things come to an end, as the proverb goes," he said, his voice on the edge of a snarl.

I swallowed and, despite the cold, started to sweat. "Uh-huh."

"She left me. After all I'd _done _for her, all that I'd sacrificed for her… she simply chose someone _else_." The moonlight broke through the clouds for a moment, shining weakly over the beach, and his frown deepened into a glare, giving his face a haunting glow. "Do you agree that I have the right to be upset that she chose to be a whore?"

My eyes widened. In simple terms, his words were just a story. But hearing this kind of resentment from a stranger's mouth in the middle of the night was far above and beyond the most bizarre conversation I'd ever had. My mouth was like a fish's, grappling not for oxygen, but for something intelligent to say. I'd majored in English but minored in psychology; this guy was most likely out for blood - women's blood. Estranged, scorned by an ex-lover. If I didn't get away, I was probably going to have some kind of killer's symbol carved into my chest before sleeping with the fishes (the water was only a few feet away, after all).

I was on the verge of panicking, but suddenly, I had my window. James turned his head toward the ocean again, and without hesitating, I let my fist fly. In a flash, he grabbed my wrist, twisting it to the point of pain and pulling me across his lap so that we were eye to eye.

"Here's the thing, _Ann_." He held me firmly, squeezing my wrist tighter until I gasped. "Love will make you do crazy things, as I'm sure you've figured out by now. This boy who broke your heart… you would do anything for him, wouldn't you?" he said close to my neck. "_Anything _to have him back, am I right?"

I was certain he could feel the pound of my heart vibrate through my body. My breath was coming in little gasps that I couldn't control and I felt dizzy. I knew I should have been terrified. I should have screamed, pleaded, kicked and squirmed in protest, but I didn't.

"Yes," I whispered.

He drew in a strong breath through his nose and exhaled, his hands shaking in an almost rhythmic tremor. His head was so close to mine, perfectly aligned as if to kiss me. A scent of spicy pine replaced the salty air and overtook my senses. Rational thought seemed to slip from my mind. It felt impossible to breathe. It was the strangest feeling…

"Would you kill for him?"

_Him._

_Edward_.

The thought of his name gave me a slight burst of clarity. I was going to die and leave him behind. Whether he really loved me or not, it would destroy him. I shouldn't have left, shouldn't have been so stupid to run off in the dark. I'd left him with the worst words ever and they were going to be the last he would ever hear from me.

"Please, let me go," I whimpered. My attempt was pitiful and I still couldn't bring myself to move, to fight back. Either he was that strong or I was going into shock.

James was still piercing me with his glare and I waited, waited for the moment when he'd brandish a knife and start hacking into me, or strangle me right there with the sound of the surf and what sounded like distant thunder to cover my struggle. At this angle, his eyes almost seemed devilishly red, like a monster out of a dream.

But then, those eyes narrowed away from me and he turned, whipping his head over his shoulder. His grip altered quickly: tight, loose, tight, loose. He gazed back at me, nostrils flaring. "Well, isn't this your lucky day?"

"Hey!"

The voice came out of nowhere. I felt my heart skip and closed my eyes, wondering if it could be possible that Edward had found me. Before I could think of what to do next, I was crashing hard into the ground, having been tossed to the side. I spit grainy, damp sand from my lips and scrambled to my feet, backing away in disorientation.

"Bella! Come here!"

Sand was in my eyes, too, and with the added darkness, I had no idea where '_here' _was.

"_Bella?_" James repeated, smirking with a laugh. We were only separated at arms-length, now. "Oh, someone wasn't being honest. And after I opened my heart to you, I'm repaid with lies?"

"Get _away _from her_," _the voice demanded harshly.

Not Edward's voice, but it _was _someone I knew. I moved immediately toward the other figure on the beach, still half-blind, but suddenly euphoric that I might, in fact, live. "J-Jake? Is that you?"

"Over here," he said firmly, reaching out his hand. Gasping a relieved breath, I ran as fast as my oversized boots would allow me, sprinting into Jacob's arms. "Are you all right?" he asked me quietly, though still not taking his eyes off of James.

"Yeah," I said breathlessly, feeling a surge of adrenaline.

_My God. You were almost fish food_.

Jacob stepped in front of me and blocked my view, and I instinctively held onto his waist. "It seems like you're not from the area," he called out, his voice angry. "If you were, you might have realized there are a few rules to follow. Being here? Strike one."

I pressed my head against Jacob's shirt and shuddered at the wind, the situation. I wanted to pull him away before something terrible happened. What if James tried to attack _him_, next? I was more terrified _now _than I had been in that man's arms. It made no sense.

"Approaching her?" Jacob continued. "Strike two."

"Jake, let's just go," I pleaded almost silently, and then tensed as I heard another rumbling sound in the distance. Was that thunder again? It almost seemed to be coming from the waves, not the sky. As if the ocean was growling.

"Don't make there be a strike three."

I rubbed my eyes, blinking from the sting, and couldn't help peering from around Jacob's back. James seemed far away, now; he was turned toward a darker part of the beach where boulders were piled.

"Leave," Jacob said fiercely. "Now."

I buried my face in Jacob's back again. I had to give it to him - he was brave. But that still didn't mean this asshole was going to go quietly.

"My mistake," I heard James say in an almost suspicious tone. "It won't happen again."

Or … maybe he _would _go. Weird. This was too easy. I anxiously bunched my freezing fingers, waiting for them both to start fighting, to knock each other to the ground in some kind of male-dominance rage. There was only silence.

"Stay close to me," Jacob said in a low voice. "We're going to walk up to the street."

I obliged, wrapping my hands around one of his and gluing myself to his side. He turned, suddenly, and took off in a brisk walk toward the parking lot. Once again, I looked back, afraid James was following us.

He simply waved his hand, giving a hostile laugh. "Nice to meet you… _Bella_."

Jacob walked faster, practically dragging me, and I whipped my head forward again, concentrating on my steps and trying not to fall. "I…" I gripped Jacob's shirt and sniffled, cold and confused. "Thank you. You-"

"What were you thinking, huh_?"_ he demanded angrily, keeping his arm firmly around my shoulders and directing me toward Edward's car. "Why are you out here? At night, of all times?"

"I - I was just-"

"Do you _know _how dangerous that was?" He ran a hand over his face, then turned to me with a blazing glare. "I mean, are you _stupid? _You could have been hurt. You could have been… _worse_."

I took a short breath, feeling a prick of tears behind my eyes. "I… I didn't plan on running into a psychopath, you know."

"Still," he said, looking from left to right and back to the beach. "You shouldn't have been here."

"Well, I guess I _am _stupid, then," I grumbled. "Call me crazy, but I didn't think this beach was off limits."

"Yeah, you have no idea," he muttered when he broke his gaze from the water. "Come on. I'm taking you to my place."

"But, I drove-"

"_No!" _he growled under his breath, pulling me away from the Volvo_. "_Come with me. Hurry up."

I yanked my hand away. I'd been yelled at all night. I wasn't in the mood to take it anymore. "Yeah, no thank you. I'll go back to the-"

"God damn it, Bella, I'm serious," he hissed in a whisper. "Just give me your keys, then. I'm driving you."

I knew he had probably just saved my life, but seeing him act like an angry parent made me want to hit him. Like I really _wanted _to have a damsel-in-distress moment after all that had happened. Biting my lip and huffing my breath through my nose, I finally gave in. I reached into the parka's pocket and handed him the spare key.

"Thank you," he said brusquely, proceeding to steer me to the passenger door and practically push me inside. He was in the front seat in a flash, started the engine, and nearly spun out as we sped out of the lot.

"You don't have to be so mean," I told him, feeling babyish as I spoke the phrase.

He sighed heavily, adjusting the rearview mirror. "Sorry. I'm worked up."

_Aren't we all?_

I watched as he pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed a number with one hand. "Hey," he said into the receiver, sounding just as annoyed as he'd just been with me. "No, everything's fine. Yes. No. _No_. Are you serious? What do you think I am, a moron?"

I turned on the heat, shivering, and watched Jacob scowl as he listened to the other line.

"Why, what the hell is _he _doing?" he continued, shooting a pointed look at me. I raised my eyebrows and he looked away, remaining quiet for awhile.

"Oh, well isn't _that _fascinating," he finally scoffed. "Listen, if he happens to make it back to you, just make sure you do _your _part. We've got our own problems. Call me when you have good news for once, will you?"

With that, he hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Leech," he muttered. At my bewildered look, he added, "Term of endearment."

Whatever the hell _that _meant.

"If who makes it back to … where?" I asked, completely out of the loop. "Did you mean him - that guy?"

"The less you know, the better."

Silent minutes passed as we rode. Jacob, as well as I, frequently glanced in the car's mirrors, as if making sure no one was following us. I didn't see any other headlights, so that comforted me a little. I wasn't sure where we were going and since the weight of the past few hours was starting to settle on my shoulders, I simply shut my eyes and rested my head against the seat.

"That coat's hideous," Jacob commented after awhile.

I glared at him. "Your face is."

A few seconds passed in silence before he sputtered, breaking into a loud laugh. I lost my frown for a moment, finding a sort of relief in the sound, and he said, "Maybe I should take you over to the elementary school instead of my house."

_A joke. Thank God._

"It's not my coat. I took it from the lost and found bin."

"Isabella _Swan_," he said in mock-reprimand, "you've resorted to stealing some poor woman's parka? With pussy cats, no less."

"Oh, shut up," I huffed. "You just wanted to say the P-word."

He gave me wisecracking grin. "Parka?"

Men. Despite my depleted energy, I actually managed a small smile.

"But seriously, Bells, it doesn't make sense," he said, his voice growing gentle. "Why were you out on the beach at three in the morning by yourself, wearing someone else's coat? Don't get me started on those boots."

I put my hands up to the heating vents to thaw out a bit. "Because I left _my _coat in Edward's room after we broke up. And I didn't feel like sticking around the lodge."

The car rode over a large bump and I could hear little pebbles smack the underside. That was how it felt to say it aloud, like a heavy thump that was followed by little, echoing stings of the truth.

"Shit," he said, surprised. "You guys broke up?"

"Yeah." I tried not to sound so pathetic, like a sniffling, melodramatic kindergartner who got pushed on the playground. "It wasn't really said in those words, but he made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do with me. That I was just a distraction to him."

"_He _said that?"

I nodded glumly. "And then I hit him, so I'm guessing that sealed the deal."

"Good for you," Jacob muttered, giving another glance to the rearview mirror. "I'd kind of like to hit him, myself."

"No, don't say that," I said, shaking my head. "I shouldn't have done it. He's been through a lot. I just… I don't know. Maybe we just had bad timing."

Honestly, I didn't really believe that. Our timing had been life-altering. Edward and I had crossed each other's paths when we'd both needed it the most. He'd said it before and so had I.

"Even so. Talk about harsh words," said Jacob.

"He wasn't the only one. I had some, too." I turned toward the window, biting my lip to keep from tearing up. "He'll probably be gone in the morning."

I heard Jacob cluck his tongue. "But, uh … this _is _his car, right?"

"Oh … yes. I kind of took it without permission," I admitted. Jacob shook his head, chuckling. "What? I left my keys in his room, too."

"Well, I doubt he's going anywhere without his car, Bells."

I shrugged lazily before realizing I had no idea where we were going. Outside, we were passing trees, trees, and … more trees. "Where are we?"

"My house." As he spoke, he slowed the car and the headlights lit a small mailbox in front of a wide, gravel drive. A red-slated house stood in the space, surrounded by an array of bushes and leaves. Surprisingly, the lights were still on considering the early-morning hour. "I just want to make sure he's gone before I take you anywhere."

"Edward?" I asked, puzzled.

"The … that guy. James."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and stared at him. "How do you know his name?"

He sighed and turned off the ignition. "Look, I'll tell you more inside. Just… come on."

Jacob waited while I brushed excess sand off of my clothes, then led me to the door. His house was warm, full of a woodsy, smoky scent which was due to a dying fire crackling inside a stone inglenook. The layout was small, but comfortable, adorned with colorful rugs, scattered books and papers, and the occasional Native American décor.

He took my coat and hung it on a wooden stand, then walked into a little kitchen alcove. "Want something to drink? I have Coke, OJ…"

Even after being in a heated car, I was freezing. "Do you have any tea?"

He smiled at that and reached for a container on the counter. "Leah keeps some. Special Quileute tribal blend." He shook the container at me. "Do you think you can handle it?"

I looked up from the floor, having bent over to untie my heavy, sand-caked boots. "Is that code for 'you might get high'?"

Jacob just laughed and filled a mug with water, placing a teabag inside and popping it in the microwave. "Make yourself at home."

After I had gratefully pulled my numb feet out of the boots, I timidly entered the living room and took a seat on one of the sofas. Normally, I would have sat up straight, politely, but I was too cold; I criss-crossed my legs right on the cushion and trapped the tips of my feet under the crooks of my knees.

"You guys like wolves?" I asked, noting the numerous framed photos and paintings of large, dusky-coated wolves hanging on the wall. The paintings had the impression of the classic animal, but the photos were amazingly lifelike.

In the kitchen, I could hear Jacob clunking a few things around in the fridge. "Haven't you heard, Bella?" he called out with an air of amusement. "Our people were raised by them."

I snorted, absentmindedly tugging at my shirt. _Oh, crap_. I wasn't wearing a bra. I knew I should have worn a sweatshirt to bed. When Jacob walked in and handed me a steaming mug, I made it a point to keep my arms close to my chest.

"Billy must have just left," he noted, nodding to the barely-smoldering hearth. "I figured he wouldn't stay put."

"Your dad's awake at this hour?"

"Everyone around here is. It's been a real mess today," he said, walking over and tossing a log into the fireplace.

I sipped some tea and looked away, suddenly unable to stop picturing Edward tending to the fireplace in his room, followed by all of the things we'd _done _in front of that fire. The memories, the I love you's…

'_Love? Let's not fool ourselves.'_

Tensing, I shifted uncomfortably and tried not to choke as I accidentally swallowed too much tea. _Don't think about that. _"Why, what's wrong?"

Jacob straightened, brushing off his hands. "One of our friends, Paul… his girlfriend died."

That snapped me out of it. I gripped the mug a little tighter. "God. How?"

Jacob's eyes seemed to darken. "Freak accident. Just … a terrible accident. Some people blamed him and he took off, now half the rez is out searching for him."

"That's awful," I said softly, shivering as another wave of cold crept up on me despite the warm room.

"Here." Jacob reached behind me and pulled an afghan from the top of the couch, wrapping it around my shoulders. "You know, you're lucky we even found you."

"Thanks. We?"

He looked away, shrugging. "Well, me. A few friends and I were looking for Paul, and then I got a call to circle back and check the beach."

"Is that who you called in the car? One of your friends?"

"I wouldn't exactly call her a _friend_," he said, chuckling darkly. "More like a co-worker who didn't do her job correctly."

"You did seem pretty mad," I agreed. I would have prodded for more information, but remembering how _well _that had worked for me earlier, I decided to keep my mouth shut. Sort of. "So… want to explain who James is?"

He plunked down on the other end of the couch and sighed, looking at odds. "A cretin."

After a few moments, I raised my eyebrows. "That's it?"

"Basically," Jacob said, rubbing his neck. "I hadn't seen him until tonight, but I've been told about him. He's been in the area a little while, now. And let's just say I don't appreciate his kind hanging around our home. I mean, look at what he did to you."

"He's crazy, then?"

"And dangerous," he added. He shook his head, cracking a wry smile. "Trust me, Bella, even if I spelled out the details for you, you wouldn't believe me."

"It sounded like he was out for revenge," I said reluctantly, James' incensed face still fresh in my mind. "He said he had his heart broken. Playing off the whole 'my ex is with another guy, so now they both must die' thing."

Jacob snorted and mumbled to himself. Before I could ask him to repeat his words, he said, "Don't worry. I know it sounds pretty secretive, but a few of my buddies are making sure he gets out of town."

"How do you know?" Jacob gave me a tired look and I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just… we were alone on the beach, weren't we? How will they find him? I mean, don't you think we should call the police or something?"

I was surprised it had taken me so long to think of such a decision. And I called myself a Police Chief's daughter.

"The police can't do much. Trust me."

"What about charging him with stalking? Do you have any idea who the girl is? The one he was talking about? Because if he's been in the area-"

Jacob sighed in agitation, tossing his arm over his eyes. "Bella, it's complicated, okay? We're taking care of it."

"Who's we, the mafia?" I sat forward. "What if I wanted to go to the police and report what just happened to me? Would you stop me?"

"No, of course not. I just… I think it would be better if…" There was a puzzling sort of confliction that slowly crept across his face and burned in his eyes, too. "I'll just have to ask you to trust me. Will you?"

I couldn't really see the wrong in warning the authorities that a crazy man was in town, but Jacob seemed adamant - plus, a pressing ache of fatigue had settled itself behind my eyes and my defense suddenly shut off like the flick of a switch. I was too tired to keep fighting or guessing. "Fine. Yes. But if you expect me to sit here and think it's normal that your friends are following this supposedly dangerous man instead of the cops, then sorry."

I sat back against the sofa cushions and drank a bit more tea and Jacob grumbled under his breath. "Man, this really is a bad day for everyone, huh?" he vented aloud. "After you left the coffee shop, things just spiraled." He let his breath out in a slow exhale and stretched his arms before tucking them behind his head. I supposed he wasn't one to stay grouchy for long because, out of the blue, he gave me a halfhearted grin. "I guess you did rub off on me after all, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes, confused, until I remembered that earlier, I'd been joking with him to keep his distance since I was so bummed. Now, he was teasing _me _and I though I tried to laugh, it was too weak to pass as real. The mug felt heavy in my hands and I set it to the side, tugging the blanket tighter over my shoulders.

"Aw, Bella," Jacob said, his brow creasing in concern. "I'm sorry. I'm kidding. I suck at this."

"Not your fault, Jake, it's just true," I said, attempting to smile.

"Come on, now, you know that doesn't make sense." He sat up straight, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you want to talk about what happened? With Edward, I mean? I'm assuming he didn't just end things out of nowhere, right?" I waved my hand but he quickly added, "Hey - stop - don't even try to tell me you're okay. It's gutting you, I can tell."

Well, so much for a poker face. My cheeks did their blood-rush song and dance and I huddled against the arm of the sofa. Maybe it was because I was emotionally wrecked or the fact that Jacob had saved me from a madman, but the floodgates opened and I spilled. "No, it wasn't out of nowhere. It was like a domino effect. Things just… fell apart. Like I said, he had a really terrible day and then tonight, before…" I massaged a dull pain between my eyes and took a breath. "He has these nightmares sometimes. Tonight was one of those nights. He was inconsolable. I just - I don't know - wanted to help, but he wouldn't listen to anything I said. Everything that came out of my mouth upset him. Even when I said I loved him. If anything, that's what set him off. I guess I should have backed off, given him space."

Jacob looked reflective, studying me with heartfelt eyes. "He lost his parents, right?"

I felt my eyes grow as wide as balloons. "H-how did you…?"

"Charlie mentioned it to Billy," he said softly, diverting his eyes for a moment. "I happened to find out."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Edward's secrets weren't anyone else's to spread around like goddamn peanut butter.

"Well, it wasn't like we were all gossiping, if that's what you're thinking," Jacob said. "That day I met you guys on the beach, I told my dad I ran into you. He and your dad had talked earlier that morning, and he mentioned a little of what Charlie told him. I think your dad was just worried and wanted someone to know who you were out here with."

At my protective expression, he sighed and stood up, walked over and sat next to me. "Anyway, that's besides the point. But listen… I know what it's like to lose a parent. My mom died when I was a kid, remember?"

Nodding silently, I reached out and squeezed his hand. I hadn't been in Forks that summer, but I remembered Charlie's phone call to tell me that Mrs. Black had been killed in a car accident.

"I was angry for a long time," he continued. "Billy and I used to fight like animals. We threw things, punched walls… it takes time to get over losing someone. And a few years back, Leah's dad passed away. We loved each other then, too, but she was at my throat half the time. Everyone handles pain differently. But now that I think about it, it's easy to channel everything into anger and point it at other people."

I carefully took in his words and rested my head on his shoulder. It made sense. I'd tried telling myself that earlier, as well, but was too upset to convince myself. "I can understand that. He was upset about his mom this morning… well yesterday," I murmured, and he hummed thoughtfully.

"But that's not the reason we ended things. I told you, he said I distracted him and nothing more." I played with my fingernails, grimacing at the sand that was stuck underneath. "Like a hobby, I guess. Someone to take his mind off of everything."

Jacob patted my hair, letting out another sigh. "I don't know, Bells. Sounds like he's full of it. You really believe he meant that?"

"Not at first," I said jadedly. "But he seemed so … done. I could see it in his eyes. He was ready to leave and told me to go. I don't know how else to take that."

It was silly, the sliver of false hope in the corner of my mind that still pulsed with determination, telling me this was all just a bad dream. It was like ice held over a licking flame, melting away in swift drops, which landed on my childish ego and stung like acid. "I'm so _stupid_. I should have just acted like an adult and gone to bed. But no, I actually snatched his car and ran away like the crybaby I am, and almost got dismembered by a lunatic because of it. Like that really made anything better."

"Yeah, well," Jacob said quietly, putting his arm around me and allowing me to lean on his side, "love makes you do crazy shit."

I swallowed, feeling the urge to sob again. "Now I have to go back," I whispered. "I don't want to go back. I just want to go home."

I closed my eyes and held my breath, but doing so didn't stop the two in-perfect-unison tears from rolling down my cheeks and dripping onto my shirt. I wanted to apologize to Jake for the Midol-like girl-drama that was taking place in his nice, cozy home, but I was exhausted. I kept quiet and so did he, and I could hear a clock ticking, the wood crackling. I could feel him breathe and my head was heavy, and everything was warm and soft, and eventually, dark.

-:-

Sorry this was short. You know me, I write a ton and then split chapters. I'm going to go out a limb here and say the next chapter should be posted in the next few days. If this doesn't happen, I'll gladly stick my foot in my mouth. If it does… well, yay!

Guesses on who was on the phone with Jacob? ;) And just to be clear, yes - James is a vamp and Jacob and is a shape shifter. Bella can only know so much - she's the unsuspecting human, after all. Which reminds me - Edward is human, too. (Sometimes people still ask if he's just a vamp who has the ability to eat/sleep/etc, and the answer is no. lol. I've changed some things, definitely, but not that rule.) Also, this story is AU and has always been labeled so. I'm only pointing this out because I've gotten placed in AH categories for contests before and a few people have commented to others that this is AH, which it's not. I just wanted to put it out there and make sure no one else is misled! ;)

I answered about half of the reviews for the last chapter, and I plan on continuing that tonight. Sorry I'm so slow at it; I read and appreciate every single one. Thanks for reading, you patient, wonderful people, even when I confuse you.


	33. Misses & Stitches

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I own a plane ticket to Florida because I'm going on The Rock Boat with queenofgrey (she's the milk to my Rice Krispies) and might be excited as a chipmunk on speed. So that's where I'll be for the next week. If I don't return, that means I've eloped with a musician.

Funny note: A few people have mentioned this: in Chap. 31, Edward snapped that his dream was about rainbows. He was being sarcastic. Please don't take that literally. Lol. Dreams about rainbows would probably be quite nice. ;) But I do enjoy hearing how deep some of you guys dig into theories.

Breakin' all the rules note: I realize Rachel is Jacob's sister in the book series, but not here (I live in my own fic world, I know). You'll get what I mean in a minute.

Sorry if this has been feeling like a tug-of-war. Writing this and the last reminded me of setting up the outside frame of a puzzle; soon, I'll be able places all the pieces. This is what I get for choosing such a complicated plot. ;)

Chapter 32 Recap: Bella met James (a fangie), who is obviously bad news. :( Thankfully, Jacob was there to save the day and got her off the beach safely without her being nommed. He took her back to his place to be on the safe side (underlying note: 'cause his "buddies" were chasing James off of their land) and they ended up having a sentimental chat before she conked out from all the crazy that had happened.

You guys are incredible, you know that? I can't tell you enough. Lots of love. And hey, Happy New Year!

* * *

-:-

"…_get mixed up in all this…"_

"…_Jared tried, but he wouldn't come back…"_

"…_the one with the red hair…"_

"…_only one who did is Emmett…"_

Somewhere, in the nebulous rift between nothingness and certainty, a soft voice sporadically invaded my thoughts and eventually pulled me out of sleep. It was a girl's voice, sounding hushed on purpose, as if trying to avoid waking a sleeping baby.

_That baby is you._

I blinked groggily, taking in my surroundings, remembering where I was: Jacob's house, stretched out on the couch like a cat. I barely remembered falling asleep, but I must have been out a few hours, seeing as the curtains were lined with the barest of gray light. Morning wasn't quite here, but on the brink.

"Bella?"

I sat up quickly, stuck in the blanket that Jacob had given me, and turned toward the kitchen. He was the one who had called my name and was standing in the doorway with a tall, pretty girl with olive skin and dark, wavy hair that fell to her shoulders. She looked so much different than the last time I'd seen her, over ten years ago, but I still recognized her: Leah Clearwater.

"Hi," I said shyly, my voice thick with sleep. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Well, it _was _almost four in the morning," Jacob answered with a small smile which scarcely lit his weary expression. "I didn't wake you, did I? I only thought you were up because the snoring stopped."

My mouth fell open in embarrassment, but Leah gave him a shove. "Don't listen to him, he's lying," she told me. "You weren't. _He _was, though, when I walked in."

Jacob gave a slight chuckle and rolled his eyes at her. "It's called being in a _deep slumber_."

She rolled her eyes right back and walked over to the sofa. "I'm not sure if you remember me. You were ten when I last saw you. Leah Clearwater?"

I stood up and smoothed my clothes, feeling a little awkward at being the only one in pajamas. "Yeah, of course," I said, returning her smile. "It's nice to see you. Not Clearwater for much longer though, right?"

She instinctively touched her left hand, where a diamond and turquoise ring encircled her finger. "Hard to believe, isn't it?" she said. "He's the boy who I used to run from, screaming."

"She used to pull my pants down, though," Jacob piped up. "I knew she always wanted me."

Leah patiently pressed her lips together. "It took a quite a few years to warm up to him. I still question it."

"You question nothing," he said with a laugh, reaching over and tucking her against his chest. "Admit it, babe, it was almost like you just woke up one day and were wild for me. No other explanation."

"I still think I might be in the process of having an aneurysm," she said, smirking. "We'll see."

I smiled at their teasing, the perfect way they fit into each others' arms, the way both of their eyes sparked when they locked gazes. It was familiar, lovely. Upsetting. Before any selfish sorrow could take over my expression, I reached for the blanket to fold.

"I promise I'll get out of your way in a minute," I assured them.

"It's no rush, Bells," Jacob said gently. "You don't have to go."

I shook my head, knowing that he was just being polite. Honestly, the both of them looked beyond worn out. Jacob had been out all night, and if Leah had arrived before the sun was up, it was doubtful that she'd gotten much sleep, either. "No, really, it's okay. I should probably get back. Did you, uh… ever hear from your friend?"

They both shared a grim look before Leah confirmed, "Yeah. But he's not back. It's still one big snafu."

I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for being such a interruption in the midst of the situation. But hey, I was getting good at that, after all. "Sorry. I hope he comes home soon." I finished folding the blanket and looked toward the door. "Well, I guess I should get Edward's car back." _Before he leaves_.

As I bent to force my feet into the cold, bulky boots by the door, Jacob said, "I do have some good news, though. The guy from this morning - he's gone. You don't have to worry."

"He's gone?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows. "How do you know? Are you sure?"

"Yes. On his way to Canada, probably," he said with a strange edge to his voice. "But, uh… just rest easy, okay? He won't be back." I must have looked incredulous, because he added with a wink, "We know people who know people."

That didn't make a bit of sense to me. "Uh," I tried to laugh, "as in someone forcibly removed him? That's not code for somebody killed someone else, right?"

Jacob gave a playful roll of his eyes, but Leah suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Bella," she said politely. "I'm gonna go crash for awhile, Jake. Wake me if you need me." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared down the hallway.

I finished tying my shoelaces and straightened, biting my lip as I glanced at Jacob.

"No one offed him, I promise," he finally said, answering the lingering question in the awkward air. "She's just upset about Rachel. Paul's girlfriend."

"Oh," I said, forlorn, reaching for the parka I'd worn. Why, didn't I have the _greatest _timing ever. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he said, digging in his pocket and handing me Edward's car key. "Come on. I'll lead you back."

Behind Jacob, the ride back to the lodge was shorter than I expected, and the streets of La Push and Forks were dark and hauntingly still. Nothing moved, not even the trees. So when I got out of the car, it was startling as the wind stirred, howling in the distance and abruptly whipping past me like a train. Thunder grumbled overhead and I hunched my shoulders, unsettled by the foreboding milieu.

"Bells," Jacob called from his idling car. I walked over to the driver's door, not really wanting to say goodbye like this. I wasn't sure if I would have the chance to see him again before I left. "Be careful, okay?"

I nodded and quickly reached through the open window, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I murmured. "Thank you for everything, really."

His hug was comforting and tight, nearly making me tear up all over again. "Don't mention it. I've got your back." He clapped my shoulder as I straightened. "It'll be okay. Trust me, remember?"

I sniffled back a slew of heavy emotion. "I do. I'll see you."

After giving Jacob a final wave as he rode down the drive, I turned to the lodge's door. I had nowhere to go but up, now… well, the stairs. I wasn't exactly prepared to face Edward just yet, but I supposed I had some explaining to do, what with stealing his…

I paused as I glanced back at the parking lot. One very noticeable thing was missing. The red, rusty paint on the hulking frame of my truck was nowhere to be found in the lineup of cars, not even at the far end of the lot where a large oak's branches practically hid vehicles from sight.

I blinked, my mouth dropping a bit. Edward had taken _my _transportation.

It was the only sensible explanation, seeing as I'd been parked right near the door. My keys had been in _his _room. I'd left him without a car. Then, he'd left anyway.

"I'll be goddamned," I muttered as I pushed my way into the lodge. I couldn't really be mad about it, seeing as I'd done the same exact thing - and first, too. He was only retaliating. Maybe he'd stolen it just for the sake of satisfaction, or maybe because he didn't feel like calling a cab and drove himself to a bus station. He had enough money to have a tow truck come and haul his car wherever he wanted, after all. Plus, I was sure he _knew _I'd bring it back in the end, right back to the lodge. I was predictable like that.

It was still very early, barely after six o'clock, and the lobby was dim and quiet as I headed for the staircase. Since I was hardly paying attention to anything but my footsteps, I yelped as I saw something pop up from one of the armchairs.

"God," I gasped, my hand instinctively flying to my chest. "Mr. Miller. You scared me."

"Ms. Bella," he said in quiet surprise. He stared at me, taking in the sight of me as if I were a ghost. He held out his hand. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I said, breathing deep and accepting his hand, "I just didn't see you, that's-"

I was stunned out of speaking as he pulled me into his arms, holding me in a tight hug. I stood stiffly, narrowing my eyes and wondering what was going on, before I finally folded my arms behind his back. I was surprised I could feel the might of his grasp through my pillow-thick coat.

"Miss me?" I joked after a few moments.

Just as quickly as he'd embraced me, he pulled back, his weathered forehead scrunched with fierce lines. "You know, if I didn't have the impression that you've been through such an awful night, I'd be furious with you."

It was almost instantaneous how quickly I regressed to feeling like a guilty child. "What… Huh?"

"You two kids running off like the night isn't full of the unknown," he continued, ruffling his thin, gray hair in agitation. "I would have hoped you wouldn't let your emotions get the better of you, the both of you."

I sighed softly, feeling like sinking into the floor. Edward and me, the center of everyone's attention. "How do you know about all this?" I asked tiredly. "You couldn't hear us fighting, could you?"

"No. I happened to be taking a phone call when Edward tore out of here early this morning," he said, pointing to the first floor restrooms where an old payphone hung on the wall between _Gentlemen _and _Ladies_."He was a fine wreck, that much was clear. Only told me you'd run off first and needed to find you before-"

He didn't finish and sighed, and I plopped down on the sofa, reaching to turn on a lamp so we could actually see. "Before I crashed his car in a rage?"

"I understand you two had an argument, but I'm sure he didn't mean for you to venture out at night by yourself."

"I never asked him to come after me." Feeling guilty was getting trite, but it still crept into my chest like vines. "Besides, I would have brought his car back a lot sooner… but I got _distracted_." It was almost poetic when I thought about it. I gave a small chuckle, which escalated into full-blown giggles - the 'if I don't laugh, I'll cry' kind. Tears came to my eyes anyway, but they didn't fall.

"Missy, you don't honestly believe he was upset about the car?" Mr. Miller said when I, at last, grew quiet.

"At least partly, he was," I answered, my emotions playing tug-of-war, wanting simultaneous relief and detachment. "I'm not sure. He wasn't in a very caring mood, so I'm just going off assumptions."

Mr. Miller's wrinkled hand patted my shoulder. "You remind me of Anna, you know. I gave her quite a hard time in our early years."

Anna, his late wife. I looked up with questioning eyes.

"I believe I mentioned awhile back that there was an incident - a bit of a bad experience on my part."

I had to think for a moment, but I remembered. "Something about the woods?"

"Mm," he said, nodding, reaching to tug up on his collar, of which now I knew to be hiding a scar. "Encountered myself a wild beast, I did. No need to bother you with details, but I was pretty shaken up afterward. I had dreams that rattled my bones. I was scared to walk outside, turn the corners of my own hallways. And it didn't just take a toll on me, but my wife as well.

"I would often shut down and push her away, convinced she should go live out her life with someone who was capable of taking a walk down the street without going into a tizzy. She was at her wit's end with me half the time… and it guts my insides to think of all the times I made her cry. Sometimes I still wonder why she stayed, loving me through all those bad moments. But then, I remember just that - she loved me. For better or worse."

I watched as he thoughtfully smoothed the top of the wedding band on his finger, and it was enough to send my tears over the edge. It wasn't fair that someone like Mr. Miller couldn't still have the love of his life with him. It wasn't fair that Edward couldn't have his family back, either. Death was a miserable bitch for making them both suffer such losses.

"You know how much he loves you," he continued softly, tapping his finger on my wet cheek, catching a tear. "Inside, you still know it."

"That's the thing, though. I can think it, but it doesn't make it true. He told me he doesn't." My voice was shredded as I took a breath, wiping the tears off my face with my sleeve before gesturing to Mr. Miller's ring. "He never promised me a 'for better or worse'. He can leave whenever he wants."

A few minutes of somber silence passed as we sat together, as he sympathetically held my hand. I finally stood up, gesturing at my feet. "I should get these back in the kitchen before Tom comes."

Mr. Miller let go of my hand and patted my hair. "If you say so, missy. But you should call Edward, tell him to come back. No matter what happened, I'm certain that he's not running around out there for the sake of it. He's looking for you. And driving and worrying is a bad combination."

I knew he was right. I nodded and trudged to the kitchen, where I replaced the old boots. I lingered, leaning on the counter for a minute and wishing Tom _was _here; prepping the entire kitchen for breakfast would be soothing right about now. Though, I supposed I had other things to deal with first. Maybe I could help with dinner.

The lobby was surprisingly bright as I exited the kitchen door, due to none other than Doris and her early-bird routine of getting the lodge ready for the day. She was chattering over her shoulder to Mr. Miller, elbows-deep in the grandfather clock as I slowly tiptoed my way through the café.

"Isabella!" she said in surprise. "What on earth are you doing awake so-"

She was cut off by a grumble of thunder, to which she rolled her eyes. She waved her hand above her head, continuing "Word is, there's a warm front moving in. Makes the skies dance like the devil, but I can't say I'm not looking forward to a warm breeze tomorrow!" She closed the clock's front with a smile and blinked at me. "Goodness, honey, what on earth are you wearing?"

_Oh, right. You're barefoot and wearing feline-printed outerwear_. _You're Kittybella_.

"Oh, I was … so _dumb_." I tried to grin back and appear normal as I thought of a lie. "I locked myself out of my room this morning and didn't want to wake Edward, so… I just borrowed a few things so I could run to the store. I hope that was okay."

Edward wasn't even here and my hands were devoid of bags, a purse, _and _keys, but Doris didn't act the least bit suspicious, God bless her.

"Oh, certainly, dear, I'm glad we had the right things lying around!" she beamed, patting the sleeve of the parka. "Unless you'd like to keep this, I think I'll put it in the box for Goodwill."

I slid out of the huge sleeves and handed it to her, actually managing a genuine laugh. "I think it would better suit someone else. I'm kind of swimming in it."

Doris chuckled. "Maybe that's for the best, after all. Oh! Good news! I have something for you. _Two _things, in fact."

She flitted to her desk and I followed, sharing a small, amused look with Mr. Miller. Doris just had that peppy effect on everyone, I supposed, no matter the situation. She opened a drawer and pulled out a Fed Ex envelope. "Your plane tickets arrived just last night - not long after you left me, wouldn't you know it! Reasonably early, considering the season!"

"That _was _fast," I agreed. Renée must have sent the tickets a day or two before calling; she was quite the optimistic one, after all. In taking the envelope, I wished the flip of my stomach was one of excitement instead of regret. I tried to smile, though; I only had to lie for a little while longer. Either Edward and I could try to resolve whatever we had left and maybe start over (I couldn't help hoping) or Doris would eventually find out that he was, in fact, leaving. "Thank you for signing for them."

"Well, you're welcome, honey. And even more importantly, here's _this_."

She held out one more thing, the last thing I expected to be handed. I stared, unsure if it was what I thought. Because if it was…

"It was in one of the trash bins, right on top. Luckily, it was one just full of leaves!"

"This was … in the trash?"

"I'm sure Mr. Masen would be terribly upset if he thought it was missing!" She smiled, patting my hand. "You know, the boys were going back and forth outside with that firewood for two hours. Darryl, my oldest, said he tossed a few pieces of litter, so it was probably just a mistake. It's a good thing I thought to add an extra bag of leaves to the can last night before the trash trucks came this morning!"

In my hand sat Edward's letter, a glaring bright yellow. It could have been a hot coal with the way it felt on my skin, because deep down, something told me it hadn't ended up in the garbage by accident. And if that was true, Edward was done with me for good and there was nothing left to salvage - not according to him.

"Maybe you should tell him you were the one who found it, dear. His extra-special something from his extra-special someone."

The grin I gave her was a strain through tears, and the small sob that escaped my throat thankfully came across as a laugh. I quickly hugged her so I could compose myself behind her back, scrunching my face to restrain from crying.

"Oh, honey, you're shaking," Doris said gently. "Maybe a nice hot shower will warm you up."

I got myself together just in time as she pulled back to see my face. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Maybe I'll see you for lunch, later?"

It was a lie. I wasn't coming out of my room until it was time to leave for Seattle.

"Of course," she said warmly. "Oh, you need a spare room key, don't you?"

She disappeared into the back office, then came back, holding out a gold key.

I barely managed to utter, "Thank you - for everything." Before she could say anything else, I turned to a weary-eyed Mr. Miller and held out Edward's car key, keeping my voice low. "Will you do me a favor and give him this? I can't."

He didn't even argue with me. As soon as he'd taken the key, I hurried for the stairs. My pulse pounded as I climbed, not from the effort, but in anger and pure wretchedness. This was ridiculous; I couldn't take anymore.

Once inside in my room, I locked my door and let the plane tickets fall to the floor, then went straight to my charging phone. I had two missed calls - Edward at two-forty-seven AM, another from Angela at three-thirty-four. She'd also left me a text message: _Are you okay? Please call me._

Edward must have called her, thinking I would go to someone familiar, which would have been the smart thing to do. It was probably a work night for her, too. I could have sat in a nice, warm hospital cafeteria and drank horrible coffee with her on a break… if I only had a brain.

Still clasping the letter, I answered her with a short _'I'm fine, sorry for any confusion. I'll call you later, I promise' _and then breathed a sigh. My stomach was in knots and I felt cold and dirty and snotty, and all I wanted was a shower and to sleep for a month, but I knew I couldn't let Edward stay out all day and keep searching for me, not in the state of mind he'd been in. As pissed and hurt as I was, I wasn't that much of a bitch to stop caring. I scrolled to his name and the phone dialed, and as I listened to the rings go by - my heart in my throat - I was almost positive I'd burst into tears the second I tried to talk.

In the middle of the fifth ring, he answered.

"God damn it, what the fuck do you _want?"_

His voice was like a kick in the stomach, my breath leaving my lungs in a whoosh. He had Caller ID. He knew it was me. I was correct; at the sound of his voice, I absolutely did want to bawl my eyes out.

I could barely speak. "I-I'm back at the lodge. Mr. Miller has your key."

The silence was painful, but it didn't last long. "Jesus," he muttered. "I can't - Bella-"

I hung up, not wanting to hear anymore, and turned off my phone. Melodramatic, maybe, but I wasn't going to let him yell at me over a receiver; he could scream at my voicemail if he really wanted to. Hopefully, he would do the same as I had and give my coat and keys to someone, or set them outside my door. I hoped he wouldn't try to say goodbye. I'd heard all I needed to hear.

Instead of throwing my phone against the wall (it already had enough damage), I simply placed it on the dresser and opened up the weathered piece of yellow paper in my other hand. I stared at the crinkled edges, the squared folds, my eyes too blurred with tears to read the words. Then, I ripped it in half.

And again.

Again.

Again.

The slashing sound of tearing paper mirrored my heart, slicing and breaking for a second time. Little jagged pieces fell from my fingers like mocking confetti and landed in shreds at my feet. As my hands emptied, I felt like screaming but took to sobbing until there was nothing left.

Not bothering to clean up the mess of paper, I shed my clothes and stepped into a steaming shower, trying to drown my emotions. I stayed under the pouring water until it ran cool and my hands shook as I turned off the faucet. I couldn't tell if I was shivering or trembling. Once I was dressed in clean clothes, I fell into bed with damp hair and buried myself under the comforter.

Even though dark clouds still covered the sky, the barest light lit the windows in a neon sting. I thought about getting up again to close the curtains, but I didn't have the energy. I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep. I couldn't really, though, not for more than a few minutes at a time. Hours could have passed as I tossed and turned, alternating between periods of brief unconsciousness and interrupting sounds of ill-tempered wind and late-migrating birds. Creaks from above. Knocks on my door.

My eyes cracked open at the last noise and I was unsure if I'd imagined it. But then there was a click, then another creak - not one from the ceiling, but one of hinges and wood. My door. It had opened. I remembered locking it and only one person had my key. One person I was sure I couldn't bear to look at again.

I kept still, eyes closed, trying to breathe slowly. If he thought I was asleep, maybe he would go quietly. Maybe he would even kiss my cheek before he left, just for parting's sake. Or maybe he would wake me up to say, "Fuck you, too."

He didn't do anything, though. There were no footsteps, no calls of my name. I only heard a tangled sigh and a grazing sound against the wall or door, followed by a bit of restless noise. Then silence.

Only after several minutes had gone by did I dare to crack open my eyes.

Edward was sitting in the doorway, his lower back pressed against the wooden frame, head on his knees, hands twisted in his hair. Mute, still, waiting. Thinking of a way to say goodbye, probably, because he just _had _to twist that knife. The sight of him made me start to shake, and even though I didn't want him to notice me, I quickly rolled over, facing away from him. I could still tell him to get out of my room if I had to.

I heard him stand and braced myself. I didn't know what he was going to do.

Footsteps. He was walking toward me, and my heart felt similar to the night I'd first saw him, beating so hard - half in fear, half anticipation.

"Bella?"

I was not expecting an icy hand to graze my arm. Flinching, I flipped back over and startled him, and in return, he startled _me _- his expression did, anyway. I didn't know what to expect him to look like - maybe a little worn out or angry, if anything - but I hadn't anticipated such an extreme amount of sorrow to have swallowed him whole. It was as if he'd been beaten up, only without wounds or bruises to showcase. And here I thought I looked terrible.

"Why are you so cold?" I asked. Ah, fantastic. I was back to useless questions that had nothing to do with the situation.

"I forgot my coat." His voice was both soft and raspy, as if he'd been the one in bed, freshly awakened. "The heat in your truck stopped working."

I should have apologized for my metal catastrophe on wheels, but was too busy fighting the urge to sit up and either crush him with a hug or punch his face. Instead, I impulsively lifted the covers. "Get in," I told him quietly.

His eyebrows raised the slightest bit; he was surprised. So was I. The last thing I expected to do was invite him into my _bed_.

"Well, you're freezing." He still didn't move and the expression on his face was heartbreaking, as was the silence, so I let the comforter drop and turned back to the windows. "If you don't want to, then, at least grab a blanket from your room. Unless you're just here to say goodbye."

The sound of his breath was soft and I was sure I would hear the subdued murmur of, 'Well, then… goodbye', followed by a gentle shuffle of departing footfalls, but I was wrong. The mattress creaked and dipped as he slid in beside me, and the two thumps that sounded must have been his shoes falling to the floor.

Underneath the comforter, he moved close enough to touch and I almost stopped him, ready to tell him that just because I wanted him to regain some body heat didn't mean I wanted to _cuddle_. But he kept just enough distance; the space was equally much too small and far too wide.

I waited, feeling the pinch of grief pulse with every moment that ticked by. We'd been in this situation before and it was becoming tedious. Honestly, I didn't think he had the energy to have _this_ conversation again either, but maybe he felt obligated to do it formally.

I listened to his breath stop and start, and the short, tired sighs that should have been words expired into silence each time he tried. After what felt like eons, he whispered, "I didn't know it was you on the phone. I answered it without looking. I thought you were-"

"It doesn't matter," I cut in, not even sure if I believed him. My body hadn't reached a halt of feeling, but my voice had. I'd already lost him, so there was no point in making an effort to sound positive. "You don't have to explain. You don't have to say it, either."

The sheets swished as he moved. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry. Goodbye. That this doesn't work. That I don't understand, that you can't do it. I already know." He'd already told me. "Why don't we just spare each other the exhaustion and just be done? You didn't have to come back."

"Of course I did," he said hoarsely. "I've been looking for you all morning. I… What I said… I don't even know where to start."

"It's okay. You don't have to say it," I repeated. Hopeless was my middle name. Pity Party was the runner-up. "Let's not do this."

I would have taken his clipped exhale for frustration if it hadn't been so wretchedly laced with misery. "I said so many things. I feel sick about it and I can't… When I called you a-"

"If it's what you felt, then it is what it is," I interrupted again, determined to make this as quick and painless as possible. "I don't blame you. But if you don't mind, I'd rather not hear you say it again."

"Please don't do that," he said, sounding close to tears. "You're stronger than that, than I am. Please don't let me do that to you - break you apart like you don't matter."

"It's nothing I haven't heard before. I'll live."

He cleared his throat and shifted again, making the blankets tug and bend, and I hated the hollow space that felt so cold against my back. "What are you talking about?" he finally asked.

I thought about keeping quiet, telling him '_never mind' _and that I had stupid guilt of my own that I didn't want to share. But his hand on my shoulder was like a knife to my shield, puncturing my will.

"When I used to ask why my parents didn't live together like other moms and dads, Renée told me how she and Charlie had been young and irresponsible, and were distracted by life elsewhere. That it was no place for a baby to be living among so much fighting," I answered lethargically. "It doesn't take a genius to see that the distraction was the baby. Me.

"And then in second grade, my report card said 'Bella can be a distraction in some of her classes. She fidgets and speaks out of turn, sidetracking the other students'. I was pretty shy after that."

Edward took a breath like he was about to speak, but I went on, uncaring.

"Remember how I told you that, in ballet class, I would trip or bump into the other girls? Well, they used to complain to the teacher how I was ruining everything. And I overheard the parents talking, too, about how distracting I was to watch because I was always out of sync. My teacher put me in the back row, even though I was short. But it was for the best."

I felt his hand slip onto my waist, further interrupting the anesthetic my mind was trying to keep a hold of. I wanted to tell him to get off, but I was on a roll.

"Phil was the last to insinuate it. '_Whiskey's not doing its job, Bella. Stuff's supposed to take my mind off of things'_." I could hear Phil's voice so clearly in my head, and it was enough to make me snap. "Well, we both know what he did to make himself forget."

It was small, but instead of a breath, a whimper escaped my lips. Shit. I'd lost it. My shield was gone and my head was splitting from crying, and I was fucking tired of everything. I pressed my knuckles between my brows, trying to alleviate the pain. "I really shouldn't have been that surprised that's all I am to you."

His voice cracked as he said, "I… no. I'm _so _sorry I ever-"

"And I know that you've had it hard, _so _hard, that I'm sure you were dying to take your mind off of things - no matter what, at first," I said, regaining some volume. "I probably would have done the same. But why, _why _would you let this go on for so long? Why would you tell me you loved me if you didn't?"

"I-"

"And how could you think for one second that I don't love you, that I'm just in this for _charity_?" I couldn't continue, knowing that's how he had seen me. It felt impossible to hold my pillow any tighter as I dampened it with more tears, breaking down.

His arm was suddenly across my chest and I felt him bury his face in my neck, heard him sniffle and suck in a breath. It was torturous, this pain between both of us. Burn, burn, burn. "It's unforgivable, isn't it?" he asked, sounding so broken. "I can't fix this, can I?"

I didn't know how he expected me to talk with the flood of snot and salty weeping I was drowning in. And the word 'fix' did not make sense.

"Please," Edward whispered against my skin, his lips cool. "Don't cry, don't…" He tried combing his fingers through my hair, shushing me with whispers in my ear, but it wasn't comforting, it was crippling. "I know I can't take it back."

It hurt to breathe. "No, you can't."

"I wish I could," he said anyway. A small huff of his breath hit my neck. "There wasn't an ounce of truth in it."

"Yes, there was."

"No." I could feel him shake his head as his fingers curled into my shirt. "No, no."

If I hadn't been so mentally drained, I would have elbowed him away. "Why would you say it, then, if it wasn't true?" I asked desperately, still unwilling to face him. "You just wouldn't have. Not those words."

"Because I couldn't - I needed…" He sounded breathless, like speaking was too much for him. "I wasn't thinking. Or I was, but for all the wrong reasons."

I shook my head. I didn't know what he meant and I didn't want to guess.

"I… I couldn't even bear to be in my own skin," he rasped. "I just… I saw what I did to you. I threw you against the wall, I hurt your arm… I couldn't stop seeing your face from my dream. All I could think was how horrible I was, how I could have…"

He shivered against me and pulled me closer, tightening his grip.

"It was the worst thing I've ever said. All of it. It was terrible and I - God, I'm so…" he murmured. His words were voiced like muffled static, almost too soft to understand. "Sorry isn't enough."

I couldn't understand why he was hugging me. He wanted forgiveness before leaving, maybe? There were two sides to my heart at that moment, one side clinging to its defense - the anger and pain, warning me not to believe him; the other tugged adamantly in the opposite direction, a warm, sympathetic pulse that wanted to soak up his words and put the entire day behind me.

Ultimately, this really wasn't about me - not for the most part, anyway. I was a small sliver among many splinters. He didn't need my whining, my anger, and _I _certainly didn't need to add insult to injury. I needed to suck it up because I still loved him, regardless of how he felt.

After taking a few deep breaths, I turned over to face him. He looked emotionally spent, fatigue and pink, swollen skin heavy around his eyes, complete with streaks of fresh tears. Looking at him was dangerous; it made me want to hug him and not let go, but that wouldn't accomplish anything, seeing as I'd start to sob all over again.

"Okay. I get it. You're upset and you don't want to feel like shit. I can understand that. I… I forgive you."

The words felt like a recording of my voice against my will. It was what he wanted to be said, what I _did _feel deep down, only not so robotically. He stared at me, undoubtedly confused, and I swallowed, hoping that I wouldn't have to try too hard to convince him.

"It's better, right?" I continued, unable to stop my voice from cracking. "To not end this on bad terms? It's for the best."

His eyes closed, and I watched pain spread across the little creases over his forehead, in the part of his lips and the winded breath that softly brushed through them. It was like watching a painting come alive, feeling the emotion that rippled through the colors, the layers. He was so, so beautiful, even in sorrow.

"Okay," he finally whispered. "Okay."

Edward shrunk back, his fist bunching the fabric over his chest. He looked fragile, as if trying not to cry out, and eventually sat up and turned toward the wall. I had to swallow a scream, a plead for him not to go, but he spoke before I could, pointing toward the bathroom. "Where did you find that?"

"What?" I asked in a small gasp, losing my grip on staying strong.

"My letter."

I'd forgotten that I'd left it in pieces on the floor. "I - I didn't go digging for it or anything. Doris found it and thought it was a mistake."

He twisted, eyeing me in what seemed like confusion. "What do you mean? Where?"

I knitted my eyebrows. "The trash." I would have added 'where did you _think_?' but his startled expression stopped me. I sat up slowly, eyeing him seriously. "You _did _throw it out, didn't you?"

He shook his head, wiping his eyes. "No. No, I - I lost it. I looked everywhere. How could you think I-" An even darker shade of misery started to swim in his eyes and he took a harsh breath. "You don't trust me," he said softly, defeated. "Why should you after what I did?"

I didn't know what to say to that, but he continued, pressing his hand to his head, "I would never have thrown it away. I wouldn't, I promise. But I don't blame you for tearing it. I don't blame you for anything. None of it was your fault."

I squeezed my temples, too. It was amazing how every single part of me could hurt so badly. But all of that pain seemed doubled in each move Edward made, whether it was the slump of his shoulders or rubbing his eyes, his hair. Our emotions hung heavy in the air around us like thick static. Nothing but turbulence. Uncertainty. And it suddenly dawned on me that maybe it was enough to misunderstand each others' intentions.

It took me a minute to work up the nerve to ask. "Are you here right now because you're leaving, because you don't want me and don't want to deal with this anymore, but feel the need to mop up a mess first? Or are you here to try to … fix things?" He'd said the word 'fix' earlier, hadn't he? "Just… tell me the truth."

"I want to, yes," he said quickly, his voice shredded. "Fix things. I want to try - I _am _trying. It's just - I thought when you said you didn't want to end things on bad terms…" Comprehension became clear in his watery eyes. "You thought that's what _I _wanted."

I nodded, unsure. The knots in my stomach were consistent with those in my head, and both began to slowly loosen - just a bit.

"Does that mean you're _not _leaving me?" he asked, an odd combination of disbelief and hope.

My mouth dropped as I stared at him and my hands started to shake as I thought about all the things I could say to him - some pleading, some relieved, some reassuring. But before I could decide on anything, my chest was heaving and I blurted, "_Me _leave _you?_ Are you _serious?_"

From the look on his face, he clearly was. I pushed the covers off my legs and scrambled out of bed, enraged. "You told _me _to get out! _You _were the one leaving! And you - God, you know, I could fucking hit you all over again!"

Edward got up and reached for me, probably to calm me down, but I stepped back, wrenching away. "No! You don't get to do that! It's not fair, saying you're leaving every single time something goes wrong! Do you even understand how that feels? Because I feel like a piece of shit!"

He watched me sadly, briefly, before finding the floor interesting.

"And you decided it so fast. Decided to leave, to not love me anymore. I've never seen you look like that. Your eyes were empty."

"I never… I know what I said," he said honestly. "But I never stopped loving you."

"Well, you stopped believing that _I _loved _you_. It hurts just as bad."

God, his face. I almost expected to hear splintering and watch a crack form along the creases of his forehead, as if he could break into inconsolable pieces right in front of me. I turned away, unwilling to let him see me cry anymore as I swiped my cheeks and nose. This time, when I felt his hands on my shoulder, I didn't fight. Eyes closed and wet, I breathed a shaky sigh as he held me tightly, his head tucked against my neck.

"I never believed that you didn't love me." Slowly, so hesitantly, he trailed his fingers down my arms and took my hands, bringing them up to crisscross my chest. "I just wasn't myself. I didn't even feel like me. It felt like I was watching everything instead of doing it. Old fears surface sometimes when I dream, and all I could think of was trying to get you away from me. It makes me sick knowing I said those things to you."

"You were thinking about it even before we went to sleep," I reminded him. "Weren't you distancing yourself then?"

He was so close, I could feel the muscles in his throat as he swallowed. "I just missed my mom."

The pain I felt was suddenly put in a very childish light. I turned my head, sweeping my cheek against his. "God, Edward," I whispered, my tears meeting his skin.

"And I know I should have told you instead of brushing you off. You've put up with so much, I just thought it would be better to deal with it on my own," he continued, gently kissing my temple. "I wasn't thinking about how much worse I was making everything. And when you came in, I'd just torn my entire room apart looking for that letter and was stupid and drunk and felt horrible - the way I treated you, how I couldn't make myself feel better… I was pitying myself and wasn't even thinking about your feelings. And I can't even explain how sorry I am for that."

His hair was soft under my fingers as I reached back, then finally turned to face him. "I should have given you space," my voice scraped.

He shook his head. "If it had been you, I wouldn't have left you either."

I laced my fingers behind his neck, angling my head so I could see his eyes. "You shouldn't feel sorry for the way you feel. You're allowed to miss your family and be angry or sad, and shouldn't have to feel like you can't be."

Edward nodded, his hands pressing deeper into my back. "I know. I'm still learning how to deal with it. And I've never been in love before, so that makes it a little more complicated."

_In love?_

"And I know that nightmares can't do anything except shake me up, but I've never done _that _before - gone after someone when I was awake. I could have hurt you. _Really _hurt you," he said, resting his lips on my head for a fleeting moment. "It felt like I was being choked and I reacted. It was mostly the dream… and I didn't know it was you."

It was my turn to reassure. "I never thought otherwise. And I know it was never your intention_."_

"Still, I was scared," he admitted softly. "That I'd damaged everything, enough to make you realize what a mistake I was. Even if you hadn't decided it yet."

I could barely think of the words to tell him how _wrong _he was. "You're letting your guilt eat you alive. You can't do that to yourself, not when you and I both know how _good _you are."

Edward released me to rub his eyes and I was relieved when he didn't shake his head or try to disagree with me. "You were right, you know. I was doing better, feeling _so _much better. These dreams, though… they make me forget everything I've worked through. It feels unbearable at the time, but it passes. I know that now."

It was cathartic to hear him be so honest. I knew baring his insecurities was never easy for him, and to be allowed inside his mind was better than any apology he could have given. Also, it was liberating to have him in my arms again, to feel the familiar sense of completeness. I couldn't believe I allowed myself to think I'd never be here again; there was simply no other place in which I belonged.

"It's just… you're all I have." He paused, raking his hand through his hair and frowning. "Sometimes, I don't think I _am _good enough for you. I want to be, but I'm afraid that one day you might decide you deserve better. Because you do. And the thought of it kills me, so… after what happened, I tried to hurt you before you could hurt me."

I took a breath, wishing I was taller so I didn't have to force him to bend into a close embrace. "We're so backwards," I choked, pulling him into one anyway. "No one else would ever be good enough. By now, I thought you would have realized that you've ruined all other men for me."

The sound of his laugh, though tired, was the antidote I needed to stop my chest from aching. That, with his lips close to my ear and being pressed flush against him was soothing, uplifting. I hoped it was the same for him; he'd been through enough pain.

"You're the only one I've ever been in love with, too," I confessed, finding the words sweet on my tongue. "So if you ever leave, I'm going to end up with a bunch of cats. Or dogs. I like dogs better."

I figured he knew I was joking about the animals, but he still squeezed me tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he murmured in a silken whisper. "I hate that I was so stupid to make you not trust me. I know just saying it isn't enough to convince you." I hummed in protest, but he didn't let me get a word in. "My letter. Before you tore it, did you happen to see what I wrote?"

I twisted in his arms, regretfully glancing at the pile of torn paper. The 'Devotion' poem. I'd only been mentally reciting it all night.

"Well… actually, I saw that a few weeks ago. The night I left. I peeked."

He pulled back, giving me a curious gaze. "You've known since then?" I shrugged sheepishly and he cupped my face. "Well, that's how it feels. It's how I felt then… it's how I feel now. The feeling of moving, living… of loving you. Always. No matter where I am, no matter what I say. I promise."

I ran my hands up his arms and to his cheeks, bringing him close, nearly in tears all over again. "I love you, too."

He lifted me in a swift, fluid motion and I wrapped my legs around his waist, always fond of being at eye-level with him. And mouth-level. I kissed him like I hadn't done so in months, a toss between fierce and thankful, and he took my lips in welcome. I didn't even care that I hadn't prepared myself with a fresh mouthful of toothpaste.

When he gently sat me on the bed I expected him to join me, but he knelt at the base and pressed his head to my knees. I played with his hair and stroked the back of his neck, letting him have a few moments. "We're better together," I said after awhile. "Aren't we?"

Edward's hands ran smoothly up my thighs and he lifted his head, taking my hands in his, kissing my knuckles. He only nodded, his eyes once again wet and penitent. "Will you forgive me?"

He had a snug grip on my hands so I used my legs to hug him, enfolding them behind his back. "Yes. And I'm sorry, too. Do you forgive _me_?"

"For?"

I twisted my lips. "For hitting you, for saying what I did before I left. Motor vehicle theft…"

"I deserved all of that, so you really shouldn't be-" As my hands tightened around his and my eyebrows furrowed, he cracked a hint of a grin. "But yes. Yes, of course I forgive you."

Even though he was finally smiling, one tiny bead of a tear gathered in the corner of his eye, ready to fall. I pulled my hands from his to run my thumbs under his eyelashes. "I hate to say this, but… your eyes are beautiful when you cry. I never noticed how much blue hides inside the green."

"Leave it to you to compliment me when I look like complete crap," Edward answered, laughing softly.

If anything, he looked beyond worn out. "Have you gotten any sleep at all?"

"Maybe twenty minutes. I drifted off in an auto repair shop." At my puzzled expression, he explained, "Your truck hates me. I think it knew what I'd done and wanted revenge. It got a flat, which I fixed, then the heat quit, then it started smoking a little. You were in desperate need of an oil change."

I ran my hand over my eyes. "Crap. Sorry. I meant to do that last week."

"Well, one less thing to worry about," he said. "Lucky for me, one of the mechanics was hanging around and opened up the shop early. Unfortunately, the heater core was leaking and the carburetor was almost shot. I had to leave it to get replacements, otherwise I probably would still be waiting."

"You walked here?" Never mind how expensive this was all sounding.

He shrugged, resting his head on my legs again. "It was only a few minutes down the road. She said it would be ready tomorrow morning."

"She? Oooh," I teased, smoothing his hair. I could see a faint line of a smile on his face, and even after it faded, he didn't move. "Are you going to sleep like this?"

"I could."

"Doesn't bed sound better?"

"It does."

He remained still and I tickled his neck.

"I feel delirious," he mumbled into my pajamas. "I'm so tired, I'm almost not. Anymore. Tired, I mean."

I tried not to laugh. I failed. "Let's sleep, then," I said, tugging his arms and pulling him to his feet. I closed the curtains, leaving us in semi-darkness, and we both crawled back into bed and bundled ourselves under the blanket. He took me in his arms and his warmth poured into me like drugs into a vein.

"Where were you all night?" he asked after a few moments, kissing along my forehead. "I was so worried about you."

"I worried about you, too. And I'll tell you later when we're not about to pass out." As I rubbed his back, my wrist felt sore, undoubtedly bruised from James' harsh grip. I wasn't going to keep my whereabouts a secret, but I didn't want to bring everything up while Edward and I were so close, so content. I would tell him when we woke - right now, we needed a break. To hold each other, to sleep, to dream of nothing.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Just so you know, once more…" He breathed the words into my neck. "I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Or maybe dream of just that.

-:-

* * *

A/N: I'm going to try to post a short-length update soon after this, before I leave for vacation. I felt like it needed its own slot. So, if you see an update in two days, don't let me fool you and think it's 9,000+ words. ;) If it's not up by the 5th, expect it by/on the 11th. Also, Edward's last line was not a proposal. (haha)

Kaymjack on Twitter rec'd the song "Please Don't Go" by Barcelona to me, and I might have played it on repeat 17 times. I might have cried once, too. If you're feeling particularly weepy, have a listen. It was a good fit for this one.

So… yeah. I made everything all nice & warm again for them. But vamp-crap is still stirring. O.o

Oh, and I forgot to say Happy Holidays before, so belated wishes everyone! :)


	34. Loose Ends, They Tangle Down

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, there'd be no such thing as a baby-spine-breaking-uterus-biting scene because that's just… uncomfortable.

Chapter 33 Recap: In the early morning, Bella returned to the lodge (after waking at Jacob's) and had a chat with Mr. Miller. This old guys loves these two (B & E) so he tried to smooth things over, but then things got complicated with misunderstandings - the "thrown out" letter, the phone call to Edward - so Bella went to her room and cried in the shower, then face-planted in bed. Edward eventually showed up. They talked a lot. They cried a lot. And when they finally worked things out, like so many endings of my chapters, they fell asleep. (Shocking, I know!)

Thanks for all the kind reviews and for sticking with me even though this is insanely late. (Though I love you guys enough to write late and only get maybe 5 hours of sleep now - I have to get up at 5 am to catch a bus and then run around NYC with WhatsMyNomDePlume today! YAY! So, if there are errors, it's because they weren't beta'd and I'll fix them later.) Unfortunately, the rest of the delay wasn't because I ran off with a musician - instead, this happened a lot: Me: "C'mon brain, I need some creativity. Words. Anything." Brain: "HAHA, NO!" I ended up deleting and rewriting this about three times. :/

-:-

When I woke, it was a hazy transition from grey-colored dreams to grey light, the outside skies unchanged - murky and disgruntled. For a moment I had to blink and wait for my thoughts to catch up with my eyes, still sensing a fading rush of adrenaline of something unknown, already forgotten from a dream. I grimaced as I stretched, feeling bones pop in joints that had been tight with tension, and stilled as my foot brushed something solid. I rolled, the sheets tight behind my back, to find Edward still asleep beside me.

Immediately, I found it hard not to smile. There must have been a hole in either the comforter or one of the pillows; tiny white feathers speckled his t-shirt and hair. In such a cute curled-up position, innocently sleeping, he resembled a baby bird. I bit back a laugh and reached to brush a small plume off his cheek, taking a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest. The serenity and sounds were better than music - the light rain pattering on the window panes, the outside leaves rustling in windblown measure, my quiet breath merged with Edward's deep. It was enough to draw me right back to sleep…

_No, no. You'll be up all freaking night_.

Being so comfortable and warm, I was more than reluctant to get up, but I decided to brave the cold floor with my sock-less feet anyway.

"_Geeez_," I hissed as my toes touched the hardwood, chills immediately creeping up my spine. I hadn't expected the _room _to be chilly, too - it was weird, considering I kept the thermostat at a consistent seventy degrees. Then I noticed the culprit - a slightly open window. I sat and stared, wondering when the hell I'd opened it. I hadn't remembered doing such a thing… I guessed Edward could have after I'd been asleep, but that wouldn't make much sense since he'd been cold after coming to my room.

I supposed whoever came to tidy the guest rooms the day before had cracked it to let out the smell of bleach or whatnot and I just hadn't noticed. Being emotionally distraught was kind of distracting, after all. Trying to be quiet, I closed the window and shivered - hello, nipples, how are you? - before digging in my bag for some warm clothes.

After I dressed, I accidentally stepped on the pile of yellow paper shreds that had once been Edward's letter. I bent to gather them, feeling regret in the worst way. The short, heartfelt notes that he had written me over the past couple of months were tucked away in my suitcase; if he had ever gotten a hold of them and ripped them to pieces in a moment of anger, I would have been devastated.

I held the tattered scraps in my hands and glanced to the desk. I supposed I could just write him a new one. Or… well, who knew. Maybe I could tape it back together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to the half with his writing anyway. I placed the pieces inside the zippered compartment in my purse and reached to the dresser for my phone.

After turning it on, I found that it was four-twelve in the afternoon. More than half of the day had disappeared. Also, I had a text message from Renée: _Did you get your plane tickets? I got the Fed Ex email saying you should have_!

As I answered her, I remembered that I'd promised to call Angela. I moved to the hallway so I wouldn't wake Edward, leaving the door slightly ajar, and sat against the wall. A few number punches later, Angela answered her phone with "Well, it's about time! Are you okay?"

I hated to relive the heartbreak that consumed the early morning hours, but I knew she was owed an explanation for being called in the middle of the night. "Are you short on time? I could probably wrap it up in a haiku," I tried to joke.

"Man, I was worried," she said. "Ben called me this morning and said Edward had called him asking if _you _were with _me_, and then we got cut off because the reception in the medical supply room is shit and I couldn't get a hold of anyone, then I started thinking something had _happened _to you-"

"Whoa, shh," I hushed her. "I'm fine, I swear. Edward and I kind of…"

I heard her sigh. "I know. Once I took my break, I went outside and tried calling both of you. He told me what happened."

It was relieving to have her to talk to, to listen. She was understanding, at least, and knew Edward well enough to not resort to disparagement - although she did add, "I told him he's not the only one who loves you and that he'd better fix things or I would leave him with two balls that don't bounce and a cock that doesn't crow."

Wrapped up in conversation, I was startled when the door creaked and moved, and I glanced over to find Edward standing in the doorway. Sleepy eyes and tousled hair - my weakness. I bent my hand in a wave and his mouth curved just enough to be considered smiling.

"Angela," I mouthed to him, pointing to the phone. He nodded and I patted the floor beside me, gesturing for him to join me. He stretched his arms and lowered himself to the carpet, slouching so he could place his head on my shoulder.

"Is she still planning on destroying my manhood?" he asked softly, breaking into a yawn.

"Edward's awake," I told her. "He wants to know if his boy parts are safe."

"Well," she responded with a click of her tongue. "Maybe for now. Tell him he owes me a coffee."

"You owe her coffee," I passed on.

He lifted his head, eyes full of sincerity and profound as oceans. "Tell her I said thank you." I figured their exchange must have been pretty serious.

I conveyed a few more words between them before Angela said, "I hope you guys feel better. I'd hug you both if I was there. Listen, why don't we all meet up for dinner tomorrow? Something casual, to relax."

"That sounds perfect," I said, watching as Edward took my hand in his lap and traced his finger over my knuckles. Absentmindedly, I went on, "I'm leaving for Florida on Wednesday for Thanksgiving, so we definitely need a few more get-togethers."

His hand froze atop mine for just a moment, then resumed its caress.

"I mean we're leaving. Edward and I." He still would want to go, right? "I think."

Aware that I was becoming Bella Blip-a-Lot, I said my goodbyes to Angela and set my phone in my lap. "If you still want to go, that is," I offered. "I wasn't really sure."

He didn't let go of my hand, but didn't answer right away. I scooted closer, leaning on him and cringing when I realized that I was in desperate need of hand lotion.

"Yeah, of course I do," he finally spoke up. "But at the same time, I don't want you to feel obligated to have me."

Oh, Edward and his guilt-ridden aftershocks. "I don't. You don't feel that way, do you?"

"What, obligated to go?" He shook his head, granting me earnest eyes. "I want to."

"Well, good," I said, nudging his shoulder. "Because I can't wait to put you into a turkey coma."

I rested my head against his arms and when he sighed, I took it as a sign of contentment. Yet, the second one that followed was too soon.

"What's the matter?" I asked, lifting my head and seeing his mouth now set in a small frown.

"You're very forgiving, you know. And I don't feel like I even…" He cleared his throat, rolling his neck. "An apology is just something that's heard. It doesn't seem adequate. I feel like you deserve more than that from me."

"Hey," I said gently. "You've said all that you can say."

"More than words, then."

I studied him carefully. Throes of hot-blooded make-up sex didn't seem to be on his mind, so I wasn't sure what he meant by that. He massaged the bridge of his nose, blinking away fatigue, and drew another heavy breath.

"I didn't mean to break everything."

I slid my fingers though his, intertwining our hands. "You know, everything that happened is still fresh. It's like a cut; it might itch a bit as it heals, but that doesn't mean we have to sit here and dwell on it."

He hummed in thought and was quiet for awhile. "You always say the right thing."

"Hardly." With my free hand, I poked at his ribs and made him squirm. He retaliated by pulling me into his arms, my back tight against his chest.

"I didn't think you would forgive me so fast," he continued, breathing into my hair. "I mean, I hoped you would and I'm relieved… but the guilt isn't gone. I feel like I got off easy."

I leaned my head back to look at him. "Edward, I know you. You're harder on yourself than I could ever be. Don't you think you punished yourself enough?" He didn't answer, so I kissed his cheek and snuggled against him. "You went looking for me and nearly froze your ass off doing so. You explained, you apologized… you told me the truth. And I think we owe it to ourselves not to linger in insecurity. So, if we're talking about forgiveness, maybe you should consider forgiving yourself."

I could feel his heart beat against my back - _one, two, three, four_.

"Plus, you put my truck in the shop when you could have left it on the side of the road. I'm the thankful mother and you're the hero who took care of my baby."

He snorted a laugh. Score one for me.

"The point is… remember when you first came back? It took us a day or two to stop reassuring each other that we were okay. And it might take a little while, but everything will feel normal again soon."

"I guess."

"Guess? Doubtful of my genius intuition, are you?" I slid my hand over his cheek, smoothing my thumb over his skin. He covered my hand with his own, turning to kiss my palm.

"No. I know you're right. Maybe I…"

I waited for him to finish, taking his silence to mean he was pausing for the right words. It took me a moment to realize that his eyes were locked on my arm. My sleeve had dropped, revealing a bracelet of dark, unsightly bruises. James. Psychopath Extraordinaire. I knew I'd end up showing signs of that bastard's grip.

"Jesus," Edward whispered, brushing his fingers over the discoloration. Remorse was fresh in his eyes and, immediately, I knew what he was thinking.

"That wasn't you," I said quickly. I didn't move to yank up my sleeve to cover everything - he'd never believe me if I tried to hide it.

"That's where I grabbed you."

"No, actually it's not. You grabbed me here." I pushed my sleeve up further, revealing four tiny traces of pink nail marks that were nearly faded. I was fair-skinned, so every blemish always took its sweet time disappearing. "See?"

He looked skeptical, then a bit pale. "Do you think I could have done it in my sleep?"

"_No_," I stressed as I turned around, straddling his lap and putting my hands behind his neck. "I'm going to explain, but you have to promise to not … get upset."

Who was I kidding? He knew better; he neither nodded nor said a word, just continued staring at me with questioning eyes.

"When I left this morning, I drove to the beach. I just wanted to get away, to be somewhere no one else would. I wasn't thinking about the time or how dark it was, or how cold… I wasn't thinking at all, really."

He gave a small nod and I blew out my breath.

"Okay, I don't want to draw this out and make it sound dramatic, but there was a man. I have no idea where he came from, but he walked up to me on the beach and just started talking to me about his ex-girlfriend. How she broke his heart and a lot of other stuff that really didn't make a bit of sense."

"A man?" Edward reached for my hand and studied my wrist. "Someone did this to you?"

"It wasn't out of nowhere, though, it - okay, wait. Just… you know how Charlie's instilled every possible self-defense mechanism on me, right?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "He was… eerie, I guess. He seemed unstable. I was getting the feeling that he just wanted to hurt someone because _he _was hurt. So… I tried to hit him so I could run to the car with a head start. Only he saw it coming and grabbed me, kind of pinned me down. He kept rambling about how love made us do crazy things. He asked me if…"

I paused. I really hadn't meant to include that.

"What? What did he ask?"

"I don't … remember," I said softly.

"You do." His gaze was intense, pleading. "Tell me."

I sighed, shaking my head, but he rubbed my back, adding a faint, "Please." I would have resisted, but our day had been exhausting enough already. I gave in. "He asked if I would kill for you. For the one I loved."

Uncomfortable seconds went by and I lowered my eyes for a bit, avoiding Edward's face. "He was… insane," I finished.

When I brought myself to look up, Edward was tense: eyes narrowed, mental wheels propelling in his head, his mouth set in a grimacing pout. I hoped he wouldn't freak out - neither of us had the energy for another emotional flare-up.

"How did you get away from him?" he finally asked, his voice subdued. "Or did he let you go?"

I hesitated, not because I didn't want to set him off, but because of the truth. The probable fact that I might not have made it if it hadn't been for Jacob. I couldn't just say that with nonchalance, but I didn't want to lie.

"Jacob," I said simply. "He was in the area. I was lucky." I shifted uneasily, remembering the way James had put it: '_Well, isn't this your lucky day?' _"I'm not sure what the guy would have done, but… Jacob got him to leave. Told him he had no place being there."

I could feel Edward's hands tighten behind my back, pushing against my spine and pulling me closer. He kept his head down, though, just enough so I couldn't see his eyes.

"He took me back to his house - Jacob, I mean," I continued, weaving my fingers through Edward's hair. "I fell asleep for a few hours and when I woke, he told me his friends had made sure the guy was gone. Jake said he'd probably be in Canada by now, actually. It was kind of strange, the way he described it… but I guess it was for the best if anyone that crazy is gone, you know?"

Edward didn't move or speak and I half expected him to flash me an angry glare - maybe not necessarily _because _of me, but possibly for unloading this on his shoulders or fueling the blameworthy fire he had burning in his chest.

"Anyway," I said after a moment, "that's where I was last night. That's what happened. And I'm okay. Well, I feel pretty stupid, but… it could have been worse, I guess."

Still no reaction. Shit.

"Edward…" I anxiously rubbed his shoulders, coaxing him with gentle squeezes of my hands. "Please don't be mad."

He finally lifted his head, eyes closed, sucking in a deep breath that he held almost too long before exhaling. He whispered, "I'm not." He said something else, much too quiet for me to hear, but before I could ask he cupped my cheeks and stared at me with watery, heartfelt eyes. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

"No, don't say - it was stupid. _I _was. I shouldn't have run off like that. If I would have stayed, it would have never happened."

"No," he said, his breath shaky. "If _I _hadn't done what I did, then it wouldn't have happened. Or I should have been there. I should - I…" He looked away, his face twisting in grief.

"It was no one's fault, really. Just a-"

"I can't believe I did it again. God damn it."

I bit my lip as I stroked his hair, brushing another tiny feather to the floor. "What do you mean? Did what?"

He was so still at first, I was expecting an outburst of anger, maybe just silent exhaustion. But then his body started to shake and tremble, his breath caught in his throat, and I straightened in surprise when I realized he had started to cry. I was frozen, unsure of what move to make next but he suddenly lifted his head, eyes desperate. "I can't lose you. I can't."

"You won't," I said quickly, still stunned.

"Bella - please - I'm _so _sorry. I told myself I would _never _do that again. And I did."

I didn't know what he meant, but I shushed him anyway. "What's wrong? Why are you… Don't cry, it's okay."

He took a slow breath, easing himself out of shuddering, and leaned back against the wall. When tears ran fresh on his cheeks, he simply brushed them off with the cuff of his sleeve. "It's not okay. It's all I do." He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "I push people away. I leave them. I always think it would be better if I do, but it never is."

I watched him in silence, trying to comprehend how and why he felt so guilty. I understood to a point. If our roles had been reversed, I'd feel terrible, too. But it was cutting him too deep.

"I left them and they died," he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

They. _They_. His mother. His father.

"And I left you too many times already, and this time… God, if you would have been - if someone had-" He clenched my shirt in his fists, slowly losing control, and started to sob. "I don't know, I would have-"

"Stop," I said, clutching him in a tight hug. "Shh. Just stop."

So that was it. He still heavily blamed himself for not being there the night his parents were killed. I'd tried to ease his conscience before - of course it wasn't his fault - but I'd never put the pieces together like this. He was afraid of losing me the way he'd lost them.

There was no better consolation for it, no quick-fix solution. He simply fell apart without relent, so I did the only thing I could. I held him.

The previous day and night, along with this morning, must have punctured him with emotional jabs and wounds over and over, and he'd put up his wall, blocking where he could. I thought we were finished with tears for the time being, but he was overcome now, and his wall had crumbled and burned from steel to cinders. I had a feeling he would have cried for hours if his body would have let him, but exhaustion took over only after a few minutes, his breath slowing in depleted pants against my neck. I really had no idea how I was holding on to my composure. I was glad for the self-control, though; the last thing he needed was to think he made me cry, too.

"Shit," he finally muttered, wiping his face. "Sorry."

"I think you needed that," I said quietly. We all had breaking points, sometimes one right after the other. "Feel a little better?"

"Yes and no." He cleared his throat and gave his eyes a final swipe, then looked at me. "I won't leave you again, I swear. If anyone ever…" He held my bruised wrist and shook his head, breathing deeply. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I'd lose my mind."

I squeezed behind his neck, trying to take away some of the tension. "You're speaking for both of us, you know."

Edward pressed his knuckled to his lips, his eyes narrowing. After a good minute of quiet, he murmured, "I need help."

I raised my eyebrows. "Hmm?"

"All of this… me and my erratic emotions," he said. "It's too much. I thought I could handle it on my own, especially after I met you. But I don't know, I…" He played with the hem of my shirt for a bit, then finally sighed. "I can't sit here and promise that I won't ever have a mood swing or lash out again. I have to be realistic - if this anxiety continues, it's going to happen and it won't be your fault. I don't want to keep hurting your feelings like that."

"I get that it's going to take time, though," I said, sliding off his lap and sitting beside him.

"Still," he said. "It's not fair to you. It's just… I can't _stand _therapists. I tried seeing a few before I met you - and I know I said I've never gotten help before, and that's still true. They didn't help. They just sat there and stared at me and acted like they could _actually _sympathize, like they knew what it felt like to find the people they loved ripped to pieces. Like they'd been accused of murder, as if they knew how it felt to not be able to breathe at night because of the fear, of feeling so alone. All of their breathing exercises and rehearsed voices, phrases… it was complete bullshit. One actually said 'I know what you're going through'. He didn't fucking _know_."

While he spoke, I bit hard on the inside of my lip so it didn't start to tremble. What I hadn't realized was that I'd instinctively gripped his hand, hard enough to make him stop and ask if I was okay. "I just feel for you, that's all," I told him, hating to sound like I was pitying him. "I can't help getting upset. When you hurt… I do."

Edward reached over and lifted a lock of hair away from my eyes, smoothing it behind my head. "Which just adds to the reason of why I need to try again. My strategy of trying to push through everything hasn't exactly been magical, so I guess it's time to try something new. Even if it makes me feel like shit."

I frowned. "You know I'll support you in whatever you want to do, but I don't want you to go to anyone who makes you feel like _that_."

He smiled a bit. "I mean medication. The side effects alone are enough to make me turn the other way, and I've been stubborn about not resorting to taking pills. It's kind of embarrassing, but my choices are pretty limited at this point."

"You know, I never told you this… but I took something for anxiety for awhile. Just enough to get me through the last year of school," I said sincerely. "It made me feel a little nauseous at first, but that was really it. It wasn't so bad. And if you think it could help, then it might not hurt to try."

"You weren't seeing anyone at the time, though, right?" he asked.

Confused, I shook my head. "Does that make a difference?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, I've been offered medication for panic attacks _and _nightmares," he explained. "Kind of contradicting that one can cause sleeplessness and bad dreams while it's possible the other causes anxiety, but… then there's the one particular thing that makes me even more apprehensive, especially now that I'm with you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Which is?"

He narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat, looking a bit self-conscious. "Um. You know. Decreased desire to…"

"You mean sex?" I blurted. I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh, but a small snort escaped.

Edward closed his eyes, his cheeks turning pink as he put his head in his hands, groaning. "Rub it in, Bella."

"I'm not, I- I'm sorry," I said, biting back the urge to make a joke about 'rubbing'. I scooted closer and ran my hands through his hair, coaxing him to look up. "I wasn't sure if you meant _you'd _be more upset about that, or you're worried about what I would think."

He rested his chin on his fist. "I don't know. Both?"

I resisted rolling my eyes. "Edward. You honestly think _that _concerns me more than you feeling better?"

"Well… it aggravates _me _a little," he grumbled.

I pressed my lips together, giggles threatening to spill out at any moment. It was lightening, if anything, to be reminded that he was still very much a regular, horny guy under all of the distress. "That's not a certainty, you know. And I can think of worse things than you not being in the _mood_."

"Like?"

He was acting silly, but I still hesitated before I quietly said, "This morning." His face grew sad and serious again, and I swallowed guilt before adding, "Listen, I'm sure it gets worse before it gets better sometimes - any side effect, really. And if, you know, getting all _horizontal _is something that decreases, I'll certainly miss it, too. A lot. But I'd rather lose that temporarily than see you go through something like what happened today."

After a few moments, he nodded. "I know I freaked out on my own earlier, but I'm scared of not feeling like myself just because of medicine. What if it causes irritability and I act like a jerk all the time? Or what if I'm numb to everything and lay around like a useless waste of space?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "Then I'll be honest and tell you if you upset me. I'll pull you out of bed and make you go lay in the sun, if anywhere, because at least it's Vitamin D. And I'll love you enough to understand why."

He gave a short breath and stood up, then reached for my hands. "Come here." I let him help me up and barely had time to get my balance before I was being kissed so deeply, his arms so tightly wrapped around my back, it took me a moment to respond. Once I did, we were an enmesh of heat and hands, our lips unwilling to withdraw as the seconds passed in slow pulses.

"If I was going to do it for anyone, it would be you," he said softly when we finally did part.

"And yourself," I added, stroking his hair. "Or else it's not worth doing."

"For us, then," he agreed hoarsely. He kissed me once more before chuckling, blinking his watery eyes. "God, it's like a bad Hallmark movie in here. And I'm hungry. Can we go somewhere before some Barry Manilow song starts playing out of nowhere?"

He'd said the magic words as far as I was concerned. I hadn't eaten since the day before. "You want to change first?" I asked him. "You have feathers all over you."

"I know, what the _hell_?" he uttered as I cracked up.

We ended up in a bar and grill on the outskirts of town - the same one Angela and I had gone to before her first date with Ben. Even though it was a Friday, the place wasn't very crowded so we sat in an empty corner at a chipped tabletop, hooking ankles and brushing hands as we shared a plate of fries and devoured salad and sandwiches. We weren't drinking anything but iced tea, so I was more than shocked and embarrassed when Edward pulled me from my chair and made me dance with him to Jackie Wilson's _Higher & Higher. _

"I need liquid courage!" I cried, laughing as he spun me around and pulled me close.

"Shh," he said, smiling. "Dance with me."

If it had been anyone but him, they would have had to pry me away from my chair with a crowbar. Hours passed quicker than I would have liked, and it was well after midnight when we decided to head back to the lodge. The lobby was dark and had an air of calm and secrecy, and I had half a mind to pull him into the Entertainment Hall for some midnight _entertainment _of my own. But he seemed tired and was adamant about taking a shower (and bed was probably better than a hardwood floor in terms of lying on my back), so I followed him up the stairs - until the third floor.

"Crap," I said, letting go of his hand. "I left my purse in your car. Keys?"

"I'll get it," he said, putting a fist to his mouth as he yawned. "You can-"

"How about you go upstairs to my room and take off your clothes?" I snatched the keys and pecked him on the cheek. "I'll race you. If I get back before you're finished showering, I win."

"That only gives me like a minute and-"

"My prize is joining you."

He smirked. "Oh. Gotcha. Hurry back."

I smirked, too, all the way down the stairs and out to his car. I spent a minute dawdling, giving him a chance to actually wash off before I went and interrupted him, and even considered writing 'Penguins are cooler than Leprechauns' on his rearview mirror in lip gloss, just to be a smartass. Of course, I didn't, and walked back to the lodge's door, being careful to catch the bell with my hand so it didn't chime like the little banshee it was.

My foot was only on the second step when I heard someone speaking.

"Well, don't that just beat all?"

I froze in place, recognizing Mr. Miller's voice coming from the second floor. I craned my neck and saw a shadow moving along the wall; he must have stepped out of his room and into the hallway. There was a sigh, then a somber grind to his voice when he said, "I have to tell you, I was almost comfortable, too."

Not wanting to interrupt a private conversation, I turned around and started to tiptoe to the couches to put myself out of earshot.

"So, this is about Edward now?"

_Wait, what?_

I ducked behind a shadow on the staircase, pressing my back against the wall and feeling my heart start to pound. There was no way I was walking away from this, whether it was intrusive or not. I wanted to know exactly _what _was about Edward, too. Then again, Mr. Miller could have been talking about a friend or relative.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." Another heavy sigh and a long pause. "No, she's right, they just got in. They're fine. They're upstairs now."

I narrowed my eyes. Who _else _could have just gotten in and gone upstairs? A bucket of icy chills poured down my back and my skin prickled. Whatever was going on, Edward and I were involved, after all.

"How in the blazes did they manage that?" Another period of silence went by before he said, "And that's what Alice saw every time?"

Alice. I only knew one Alice. Alice Cullen? Maybe Mr. Miller was talking to Dr. Cullen - they were friends, after all.

"I know that, you've done told me more times than I care to know, so tell me _this _instead… what would happen if I met him first_?" _

An uneasy feeling was building in my stomach as I continued to eavesdrop. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it certainly didn't sound like he was planning a happy surprise party.

"Well, that's something, isn't it? Sooner than I planned, maybe, but-" He paused again, then snorted. "Carlisle, this isn't a battle that's going to solve itself - if it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation, now, would we?"

So it was Dr. Cullen after all. I remembered the night, weeks ago, when he and Mr. Miller had been together during dinner, both glancing over at Edward's and my table. I'd forgotten how it'd seemed that something was up back then, too.

"Listen, there's time for that in the morning. I'll be over as soon as the sun is up so I can be back in time for breakfast. If I can do something to help this, then maybe I can feel worthy before my old behind kicks the bucket. And you've known my feelings on the subject for quite some time now. So, tell me … can you make your peace with it?"

For a moment, I wanted to dash up the stairs and demand to know what the hell was going on. If Edward and I were being discussed by others, didn't we have a right to know what _about_? Before I could muster the determination, I heard:

"Well, all right, then. Sunrise. Yes, my friend. Goodnight. Goodbye."

There was another sigh, a quiet shuffle of footsteps, and an echoing thump of a closing door. That was that. Whatever _that _was.

Baffled beyond belief, I hurried up the stairs, having forgotten that Edward was waiting for me. I entered my room to find him soaked, practically naked, struggling to step into a pair of boxer briefs with a towel half-falling off his waist. "Jesus, Bella," he said, yanking up his shorts and dropping the towel. "Where were you?"

Normally, finding him dripping wet and showing so much skin would have been a cause to push him into bed and have some sort of carnal romp in the sheets. But Mr. Miller's phone call had shaken me a little.

"I was getting worried. Are you okay?" he asked, walking over. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry, just something weird," I said, tossing my purse to the floor and handing him his keys. "Mr. Miller was talking on the phone to someone in the hallway. Well, not just someone - Dr. Cullen. About us."

"Us?"

"Well, at least you. He mentioned your name."

Edward creased his eyebrows. "You're kidding. Damn it, I asked him not to."

Confusion overload. "Wait - you know what they were talking about?"

"I mean, I can only assume he was explaining my freak episode to the good old doctor," he said, picking up his towel and drying his face. "Before I came up to apologize to you this morning, we had a pretty long talk - John and I. He was trying to convince me to go see Dr. Cullen, saying that he was good with things like this - that he'd seen him plenty of times for panic. I was just worried about making things right with you, so I told him I'd deal with it later. I guess he thought he'd give Dr. Cullen a heads up."

"After midnight, though?" I was relieved that there was a reason Edward could back up, but the conversation between Carlisle and Mr. Miller hadn't seemed copasetic. Sure, it could have been concern for Edward, but why would he have the need to meet with Dr. Cullen as soon as the sun rose? I reiterated this to Edward and he shrugged.

"Maybe it wasn't all about me. Maybe they have plans to do something," he said, toweling over the rest of his body. "Hey, where do you hide my shirts?" I pointed to one of my bags and he bent down to fish through it. He retrieved the light blue 'Miles to Go' one and pulled it over his head. "Don't worry yourself, you're worse than me."

"Hypocrite," I mumbled, still not convinced, but he simply gave me a kiss to shush me. "You taste like French fries," he informed me with a grin.

I grimaced and he laughed as I batted him away. "I'm _kidding_, Bella. Come back and kiss me."

"Oh, shut up." I locked him out of the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth - with extra toothpaste. He was holding one of my pajama tops when I came out, his face softening as he saw my pouty expression.

Without saying a word, he took my hand and led me to the end of the bed, laying my shirt on the covers. I narrowed my eyes, about to vent a bit more of my worries about the phone call, but when Edward's fingers slid underneath the hem of my shirt, raising the fabric and brushing my ribs, all thoughts of the past ten minutes instantly disappeared.

He was gentle as he removed my clothes, his mouth warm and wet on my lips, my neck, my breasts. My pajamas were forgotten and his were shed as he breathed words of desire and let his hands carry out his promises, making me writhe and moan with want as we tangled together in bed, our tight legs conforming to curves.

"God, I love you," he told me, his lips brushing mine, and all that followed was the sounds of our breathy pants and the swish and whisper of the bed sheets. Afterward, we were exhausted and hot, but didn't move to put space between us to cool. Edward tucked me to his chest, my favorite spot to fall asleep on, and I felt his heartbeat - the one thing that calmed me the most. As his hands smoothed my hair, his mouth lightly sweeping my temple, I decided that nothing else mattered at the moment.

Over the last few days, we'd progressed, then regressed, shattered and fled, then finally… this. In all of the ups and downs, I knew friendship, solace, affection and laughter had connected us, while sutures of apologies and understanding had laced us back together.

Love made up both sides.

We were a hell of a patchwork, that was certain.

-:-

Oh look, the chapter ended with them in bed again. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? (I'll try not to do that next time. Try being the operative word.)

"Loose ends, they tangle down" (chapter title) is a lyric from Greg Laswell's _Off I Go_. Like I referenced, _Higher & Higher _is a 1987 song by Jackie Wilson and came on the radio while I was writing - all I could think of was Ghostbusters 2 and it made me giggle. And it's just a fun song. Go listen. Or dance. :)

So, that was the aftermath of the aftermath. Considering the first part, I couldn't bring myself to tack this on to the last chapter because of all the previous angst & weeping (and it would have been too long - it didn't end up at short as I thought it would). So, what did you guys think of that last phone call, huh? Did I confuse you? ;) Also, in writing the majority of the last edit, I was sick and high on codeine cough syrup (prescribed, I swear!) so sorry if anything sounded downright weird.

Something - well, some_one_ - awesome happened: a girl named Lexie, who goes by aruxes44 on YouTube, made me a video/trailer for this story. (_Holy crap, right?_) Anyway, she's amazing and it's amazing and I'm knocked sideways that anyone wants to make anything for this, but here it is if you'd like to see: www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=sR1rk0Bi-7U If you enjoy it, please tell her so! Lexie - Thanks again honeybunch, you outdid yourself (killing me with your brilliance and all) & ILY.

If you're feeling frisky and are into the boy on boy stuff (Edward/Jasper if you want to be specific), I wrote a Christmas o/s called 'The Eggnog Effect' for ThatPanicGirlE. If you feel like reliving the holidays, check it out. ;) And if you don't, join me in the Land of Nod. Or, if it's daytime where you are, naps are cool. All the kids are doing it.

I love you guys/girls. I love cheese, too. Cheddar & brie for the win. (I'm tired and feeling honest, sorry.)


	35. The Light & the Dark Pt 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. And that's okay with me, because I really don't want credit for things like this (nsfw) http:/tinyurl[dot]com/ygatzpv coming into existence. (If anyone actually owns this, please don't tell me. I'll make this face D: and be scared of you.)

Chapter 34 Recap: Bella told Edward what happened to her on the beach. Remember James & Jacob? The vamp and the wolfie shape shifter? (Well, she left that part out because she doesn't know what they are.) But anyway, Edward is finally realizing he needs to stop stuffing his emotions away until he explodes because it's getting pretty detrimental. (About time, right?) They ended up going out to have some fun and feel like a normal couple, but, of course, when they returned Bella overheard Mr. Miller's cryptic phone call to Carlisle, and it left her more than confused. Edward, for once, wasn't concerned and calmed her down by getting naked. You know how it goes.

Super hugs to lanamoosh, who beta'd this _and _the next chapter (woman knows her stuff), and MariahajilE for catching early mistakes. And love to queenofgrey for pre-reading and telling me whether I suck or not, and for not killing me in the process of this never-ending story. All of you girls deserve cupcakes with alcoholic icing.

So do you all who read this, come to think of it. (Except those who are underage. You can have sparkling cider icing.) Also, I'm face-palming over how long it took me to update. Maybe I should just make everyone "I'm Sorry" cupcakes.

* * *

-:-

I was restless in the early hours of the morning, unable to shake a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Unsettled, I tried to wake Edward, but he tiredly grumbled and refused to get out of bed before nine. It was only quarter of six, so I showered and left him dozing in my room before trekking downstairs and attempting to read a book. Eleven minutes later, I gave up. My concentration was shot. Only the handful of strange things that had happened the day before filled my head like stubborn glue that wouldn't rub off. At least Edward and I were leaving in a few days… If anything, my mother's 'Family Tofurkey Thanksgiving Engagement Party' sounded relatively normal after the past twenty-four hours.

I bounced my heels, checked the clock (seven-oh-four), stared at the ceiling, flicked a lamp on and off, on and off. This went on for several minutes, and, _thankfully_, before I could start climbing the walls, Tom came wandering in and asked if I wanted to help prep the kitchen for breakfast.

After the veggies were chopped, the eggs beaten, the cheese grated, and the fruit sliced, I helped myself to a bowl of oatmeal and planted myself at a table in the café. Besides Doris' passing hello, the lobby was silent; it seemed everyone else had decided to sleep in. I stared out the window, transfixed as the sun graced the skies. The breeze was gently blowing the fallen ocher and red leaves throughout the parking lot and it was hypnotizing; I didn't even look up when the door's bell jingled.

"Supposed to be a pleasant one today." Mr. Miller's voice snapped me out of my nature trance, and I glanced to the front of the lobby where he was hanging up his hat. "Already quite warm out if you ask me."

I swallowed a bite of oatmeal and smiled. "Oh yeah? That's a nice change."

"It is, it is," he said, walking over and slinging a small leather bag over the chair across from me. He settled himself in the seat and held a large paper cup adorned with a java jacket. "They're saying it'll get up to seventy-four today. Won't last long, I'm afraid. Rain showers are coming about a bit later, so they're saying, but it'll be nice to have some warmth before the cold sets in."

"Fancy coffee day?" I asked, pointing to his cup. I'd never seen him with anything other than a glass of juice or black coffee from the lodge.

"Oh, yes. One of those pumpkin lattes, extra sugar and cream. This old body can't handle dairy so much anymore, but I decided to treat myself today," he said with a contagious grin of satisfaction.

"Hey, life's all about living on the edge, right?" I joked.

"Indeed, missy. You're up early."

"So are you," I pointed out. _And I know exactly where you were_. "Early walk?"

"Something like that." He sipped his latte and gave a contented sigh. "Just paying Carlisle Cullen a visit."

Well, I certainly hadn't expected him to just come out with the truth like that. I fidgeted, trying not to appear so surprised while simultaneously attempting to look oblivious. "Oh," I replied, wanting to kick myself for turning pink. "That's, uh… that's nice."

"Mm," he said. "He's working the early shift, so I thought I'd pop by before he left. He gives me a bit of medical advice on the side, see. Hospitals give me the collywobbles and the insurance companies are like a damn herd of turtles, so he's a kind soul for meeting me elsewhere."

I had to smile. "Pretty convenient. But you're okay, aren't you? You're not sick, right?"

"Oh, don't you worry. He just teaches this old timer to keep up with his old ticker," he said, patting his chest. "So we're both not going to tell him about this cup of heaven or the fact that I'm treating myself to steak and eggs this morning."

Laughing, I said, "I won't tell." We were silent for a little while and I was glad - surprised, but glad nonetheless - to have an explanation that went with his phone call during the night (never mind that it wasn't my business). Still, that only clarified half of it. I eventually worked up the nerve to add, "Edward told me he spoke to you yesterday about maybe seeing Dr. Cullen sometime. He was a little concerned that you might have said something to him already."

_Aren't you just a little liar?_

But, damn it, I wanted to know why Edward had been mentioned at all.

After another long sip of his latte, Mr. Miller hummed. "Well, his name was brought up, yes." His expression grew thoughtful. "And Carlisle, like I said, is quite philanthropic. Edward did ask me not to say anything, but all things considered, it was with the best of intentions. Truth is, I was worried about him. About both of you."

There was a hint of unease in his eyes, and I began to feel pretty stupid. He was being as honest as he could be, almost as if he'd known that I wanted my mind set at ease. Though, he hadn't a clue that I'd overheard anything the night before, and I had to admit, I'd only heard _one _side of the conversation. Maybe there was no big mystery, no drama waiting to unravel. Maybe there were just people who cared about Edward - and apparently me, too - and I was just nuts and overdramatic and had seen way too many movies. I wasn't sure what it was about this place, but lately my mind tended to run on _Soap Opera Digest _speed. If anything, I was practically another Golden Girl in the group of old ladies who always gossiped and giggled over Edward and me.

_I see your insanity and raise you a pair of granny panties. _

Feeling guilty for being so obtrusive, I quickly said, "No, no. Of course. I mean, only because we're leaving on Wednesday. We don't have a lot of time left, so he might not have a chance to - you know, go do the doctor thing. Yet. I mean here in Forks."

_Smooth, B_.

"But he did say he wants to get help," I continued, wanting to move past my mental melodrama. "Maybe try some medication. After the holiday, I guess he will. We haven't really talked about where we'll be, though."

It was true. Sure, Edward was coming to Florida for Thanksgiving, but afterward? I had no idea if he wanted to stay there with me or… go home. I hadn't thought about that. Why had I _not _thought about that?

"I'd like to think that you both will be just fine," Mr. Miller piped up, sidetracking me from my thoughts. "I have faith in him, and you too, Ms. Bella. And I only assume so, but I take it you and Edward smoothed things over?"

"We did," I said, using my spoon to scrape the inside of my bowl. "After a lot of talking and crying and apologizing… and more talking, yeah. I guess you can say we're back to normal."

"Well, I'm very glad to hear it," he said. "I wasn't about to give up on you two."

I felt gratitude rise in my chest, taking in that Mr. Miller had been a large part of the glue in putting Edward and I back together. Who knew where we would have been without his friendship and wisdom, especially since he had steered both of us back on the same path more than once.

I put my spoon down and folded my hands, tapping my thumbs. "Not to sound, I don't know, _sappy_, but… you've really done a lot for us, even though you didn't have to. And it's pretty inadequate… but thank you. For everything."

"Aw, shucks, missy," he said, waving his hand. "It was my pleasure, through the good and bad. I should be thanking you kids for giving an old man some entertainment these past couple months."

"If anything, we should be giving you a certificate to the nearest masseuse," I laughed. "At least you'll have a nice, quiet, drama-free holiday with us being at the other end of the country."

He gave me a wistful smile, then brought the latte to his lips. "Oh, nonsense," he said after he swallowed. "So, what will you do with this fine day?"

"I'm not sure. I have to go pick up my truck from some repair shop - Edward knows where. Whenever he wakes up, I guess we'll go get it. And since you said it's nice outside, maybe we'll take a walk. _Not _in the woods, don't worry."

Mr. Miller looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, missy, I believe I might have talked you out of something beautiful."

"What's that?"

"Like I said before, these parts aren't so bad," he said, his eyes mild. "And I've been acting like an old fuddy-duddy. I really wish I wouldn't have let myself be so stuffy all these years - I could have enjoyed a lot more of nature. It would be nice for you both to see the trails, the trees. From what I hear, they don't make them like this in Jacksonville."

I raised my eyebrows. "You changed your mind just like that, huh?" I couldn't help but be a little confused. It was the last thing I expected him to say.

"Well, life is short, I reckon," he explained, glancing out the window for a moment. When he turned back to me, he said, "Don't let an old man spoil your fun. Go see some life. Get your hands dirty."

The smirk on his face made me chuckle. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't curious about those old trails. Edward had been in the woods before, but I hadn't. Plus, to take a hike on something other than concrete would be nice, refreshing. "Maybe we will."

Reaching to the side, he pulled his bag across his lap and dug out his chessboard. "In that case, if you'll be heading out later, how about one more game? I might not catch you in the next couple days with you leaving so soon."

"Sure," I agreed, smiling. "It wouldn't feel like goodbye if I didn't get my ass handed to me one more time."

Quite honestly, I had missed our morning talks and breakfast together, just the two of us. Not that I minded when Edward would join us, but it was nice to have Mr. Miller's company again like old times. The quiet, early morning quickly blossomed and our "one more game" turned into two as other guests slowly filtered into the café. After I was checkmated twice, we took a break so Mr. Miller could order his "coveted but forbidden" steak and eggs, and then began yet another game.

"You favor the knight," he mentioned as the pad of my finger touched the small white horse.

"It's my favorite piece," I explained, glancing up with a small smile. "Its moves are simple, but precise. And it'll sneak up on you if you don't watch out for it."

He tented his hands as I captured his rook. "That's very true. Very true." As I added his piece to my little prisoner pile, a wily gleam appeared in his eyes. "You know what else sneaks up on you?"

I looked up. "What?" Then I promptly jumped and gasped as hands came down on my shoulders. I turned, startled, only to be graced with a kiss on my cheek.

And there was Edward. "Hi," he said, grinning down at me before shaking Mr. Miller's hand. "Nice set up, John. Thanks."

"Anytime," Mr. Miller said, looking amused and pleased with himself.

I relaxed against my chair, resting my hands atop Edward's. "Yeah, good call," I told Mr. Miller. "He loves scaring the hell out of me."

"Only because it's easy." Edward gave me one more kiss, and even though I rolled my eyes, I couldn't deny that it was true. "Who's winning?" he asked, looking over the chessboard.

"He is," was my answer, just as Mr. Miller said, "We're about tied."

Edward studied our game for a moment, then pointed to my queen. "Hey, John, if you move the pawn on your left, she won't be able to-"

"Hey!" I cried, smacking his leg. "What are you doing? Get away! Go eat!"

Mr. Miller laughed heartily and Edward feigned innocence, playfully adding, "What? I was only telling him how to get your queen."

"Whose side are you on?" I squealed a bit loudly, earning a stare from a lady at the buffet. "Giving hints to the Grandmaster, huh? Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

"If it's any consolation, Ms. Bella, Edward's never lasted more than twenty minutes in one game," Mr. Miller piped up. "You're going on a half hour."

"Ha!" I spun around and poked Edward's stomach. "How do you like that?"

"Well, you've always been much more thoughtful than I have," he said with a smile, in a voice that was sweet and teasing all the same. _Smugward_.

"Oh, get out of here," I said lightly, pushing him away and trying not to giggle. "You're interrupting our concentration."

"Oh, don't worry, I know when I'm not wanted," he said. "I was going to ask Doris to have coffee with me anyway."

"Good," I teased. "Make sure you sit at least three tables away."

Edward leaned down, pressing his face to my cheek. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now go away so I can lose with dignity."

He chuckled under his breath and walked away, leaving me and Mr. Miller grinning in his wake.

"Well, I certainly will miss you two," Mr. Miller said with a glint of merriment in his eyes.

I sighed contentedly. "We'll miss you, too. But seriously - be on the lookout for a cruise package in the mail. Anyone who can deal with us deserves a vacation."

During the next few minutes, we both studied the board, taking in the battle in front of us. Pieces moved up and down, left and right, a shuffle of strategies and corrections, saves and blocks. I tried not to touch my knight if I didn't have to. I knew it would be a predicted move on my part, but when I finally got the opportunity to use it to shake up the match, I decided to go for it. Once I rechecked that none of his pieces would capture my knight, I placed the little white horse in line to take his king. "Check," I said.

Mr. Miller leaned back and raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

I smiled a bit, knowing there was no use in getting excited. He always had a trick up his sleeve, always polite in maneuvering his pieces to overcome mine, and I didn't mind losing to a pro.

"You might want to take another look," he added.

Huh. I was missing something. With a furrowed brow, I glanced down at the board and his options, trying to pinpoint what I'd overlooked, strategizing what I'd have to do next to get out of his way, or…

_Wait a minute_.

If he moved a cell to the left, he'd be in direct line with my queen, and I'd take him out. If he moved diagonally, he'd be prey to my bishop that was halfway across the board. Everywhere else was blocked. Given the position I had him in now, I hadn't _checked _him, I'd…

_No way_.

"No way," I said aloud. With wide eyes, I glanced up at him. "I…"

"You can say it, missy," he said with a grin.

I let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Check_mate_?" I couldn't believe it. "You're kidding me. You let me win, didn't you?"

"Scout's honor, I didn't," he said good-naturedly as he tipped over the ebony king, the sound of its clatter punctuating the moment. "I must say, I'm proud. I've taught you well."

"I seriously don't believe it," I continued, shaking my head. "There's really no way I could have ever beaten you. Are you sure you put in your contacts this morning?"

He guffawed like a cheerful bear and held out his hand for me to shake. "Good game, missy. Well played. Seems my work here is done."

I still wasn't honestly certain that I'd won fair and square, but I shook his hand and snickered. "Thank you. If anything, this gives me bragging rights over Edward, doesn't it?"

"Sure does," he said, gathering the pieces into a side compartment in the board and closing it up. "You can challenge him from now on. I'm counting on that little crusader you've got inside you to keep at it."

He said the words with a smile, but I understood the deeper meaning. Even though we had weeks and weeks together, Edward and I had really just begun. We _would _have more challenges - we weren't so naïve to believe it would be smooth sailing forever - but I knew what to do, now. Leaving Forks would be like leaving a comfort zone. We'd be on our own, more or less, and I'd have to fight for him, for us. But that was okay with me. He was worth it.

"I'll try my best," I said, feeling warm inside.

Mr. Miller looked almost sentimental for a moment before reaching back into the chessboard. He pulled out my favorite piece and pressed it into my hand, curling my fingers over it. "Keep your white knight, missy. Every girl deserves one, after all."

"I can't _keep _it," I said, smiling. "How will you play?"

"Like I said, I was a boy scout, Ms. Bella. I come prepared with spares." He patted my back as we stood. "You run along, now. You and Edward enjoy your day."

"Where are you heading?"

"Thought I'd pay my kids a visit, see my granddaughters," he said. "The weather's nice enough, and if there was a day to be outside, today would be it."

I smiled, tucking the chess piece in my pocket and stretching my arms. "That sounds nice. I think I _will _pull Edward out into the woods."

Mr. Miller hummed and gestured over my shoulder. "You might want to wake him up first."

I turned to find Edward sitting a few tables away, his head down on the table like a scolded student, and snorted a laugh. "And _he _was the one who slept in."

Mr. Miller headed towards Doris' desk as I crept behind Edward's chair. Sure enough, his eyes were closed. I doubted he was actually sleeping, but I still had a perfect chance to retaliate. I silently moved his full coffee mug so he wouldn't knock it off the table and leaned over, close to his ear.

Grinning foolishly, I jabbed him in the side and gave a childish "Rah!" He bolted upright and I quickly stepped back to avoid being hit by his head. "Sorry," I giggled, roping my arms across his chest and pressing my cheek to his. "I couldn't help myself."

He let his breath out and leaned back. "I had that coming, huh?"

"Payback _is _my specialty. Plus, you were about to start drooling on the table, sleepyhead." I pointed to his coffee. "I think you'd better drink that."

"It's decaf. I'm trying to cut back on caffeine."

"Looks like it's going well," I teased.

"Yeah, it's wonderful. In a few more hours, you'll witness my tears of withdrawal."

"Trying to warn me that you'll be cranky today?"

He shook his head and reached for the sugar. "I just can't wake up."

"There is a thing called sustenance, you know."

"I had a muffin," he said through a yawn. "But sorry if I spontaneously fall asleep later. I promise it's not personal."

I kissed his cheek and walked to the other side of the table, amused at the amount of sugar he poured into his cup. He never took sugar in his coffee. I'd never really seen him hyper before, though, so maybe this would be fun to watch.

"So, did you solve the big mystery of the midnight phone call, Nancy Drew?" he asked as I slid into a chair.

"Oh, that," I said, leaning my chin on my palm. "No, everything's fine. I was just being a drama-hungry whore." He'd just taken a sip of coffee and I smiled as he struggled to keep it in his mouth. I still got a kick out of saying ridiculous things whenever he was drinking. "I'm just kidding. I'm back to normal."

"Normal? You? No such thing," he said, swabbing under his lip. "Just a cross between typical and crazy."

I snorted, stealing a sugar packet out of his hand. "You're lucky you're pretty."

He almost got a chance to retort, but a muffled ringing cut him off. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. After looking at the screen, he scowled and pressed a button, then set the device on the table. "Some jerk won't stop calling me. The number's private and they won't talk."

"Huh. Since when?"

He rolled his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Early yesterday, I guess. It's why I snapped at you when you called before. I thought you were whoever _this _is."

"Weird," I said. "Any heavy breathing? It could be Jessica. I wouldn't put it past her to stalk you."

He managed a half-smile. "My number's unlisted. Only a few people have it."

"It's possible, though. She used to work here. And if Doris had it written in one of her books, then… you might be screwed," I said in mock-seriousness. "Remember what she did to my sweatshirt? I swear, once you came back, I was scared I was going to walk into the kitchen one day and find a poor, boiled bunny."

Edward shook his head. "Well, if she's actually that crazy and it _is _her, then thank God we're leaving. But I don't know. The whole thing gives me a bad feeling."

"Maybe it's a wrong number. Someone who just can't take a clue," I offered.

"Well, they've heard my voice - I've asked who the hell they were looking for countless times. And they must know my name. I've gotten voicemails, but they don't say a word." He rubbed his eyes and put his head down, groaning softly. "Seriously, I slept all night. How am I still tired?"

"Maybe you got too much sleep." He hummed appreciatively as I trailed my fingers through his hair, then locked his hands around my wrists when I tried to pull away. "Keep going," he mumbled.

"Right, so you'll fall asleep on me," I said, tugging on the strands. "Mr. Miller said it's really warm out. Want to go for a walk? Get your blood flowing?"

He shrugged one shoulder, indifferent. "Maybe."

Maybe wasn't a no, so I stood up and tapped on the table. "Let's go get some air. It'll wake you up."

Edward reluctantly sat up and took a few sips of coffee, then promptly cringed. "Or this will. It tastes like a marshmallow Peep crapped in my cup."

"No wonder. You put five sugars in there," I said with a snort. "Come on." I took his hands and pulled him out of his seat. "I'm going to go grab my coat just in case my Floridian skin wimps out in the seventy-degree weather. Want yours?"

He stretched his arms and grinned. "Do I have to remind you where I'm from? Seventy is like summer."

"Well, Mr. Miller said it might rain later. And it's colder in the woods," I said, gently pushing him toward the door.

He looked at me strangely. "Is that where we're going?"

I just smiled and walked toward the stairs. To be honest, I was a little excited. Not that Edward and I didn't have the privacy we wanted, but it would be nice to go off by ourselves. I hadn't been on a nature hike since I was a kid and had forgotten how much I loved to explore the trails, wander through the trees, and stop to cross little brooks and climb rocks. Plus, I had legs of steel from trekking up four flights of stairs everyday, so I wasn't worried about exhausting myself early on.

When I entered my room I went to take my jacket from the desk chair where I usually kept it, only to find it absent. Puzzled, I searched the room, lifting up bags and the bed sheets - even checking to see if it ended up in bathroom - but it was nowhere to be found.

"Huh," I said aloud. I knew I'd been wearing it the previous night, and we hadn't gone back to Edward's room. Maybe I'd left it at the restaurant… Only I could have sworn I'd left wearing it; it had been cold outside, after all. I grabbed my sweater hoodie from my suitcase and shrugged it on, still confused, and started back downstairs.

Outside in the parking lot, Edward was talking with Mr. Miller. They both turned to me as the door's chiming bell sounded. "Shh," Mr. Miller said with glint in his eyes. "Here she comes." I gave a playful eye roll, and he added, "I was just telling Edward, here, that you're the new Grandmaster."

"Yeah," I said cheerfully, sidling up to Edward's side. "What do you think of that?"

"I _think _he let you win," he answered, putting his arm around me while Mr. Miller chuckled.

I scoffed, giving Edward a mock-glare. "Well - that's just… I mean, I kind of do, too, but he hasn't let _you _win yet, so consider me your ultimate challenger, okay?"

"She doesn't give up easily," Mr. Miller said, taking my hand and looking to Edward. "You'd do well to remember that, boy."

I felt Edward squeeze my shoulder a bit. "Oh, I already know," he said, glancing down at me. He had that look in his eyes - the one that told me that if we were alone, he'd be kissing me.

The moment was broken by his phone tolling from his pocket. Edward huffed as he looked at the screen. I was certain that if he had the ability, he would have breathed fire. "I swear to God," he growled.

It could only be the unknown caller. "Just turn it off," I urged, not wanting his mood to sour.

"Telemarketer?" Mr. Miller joked, smiling.

"Edward has a stalker," I filled him in. "Probably a certain girl who used to work here. Starts with J, ends with Essica?"

_Rhymes with crankwhore?_

Mr. Miller's smiled suddenly disappeared. For a second, I thought I might have spoken aloud, but his eyes weren't on me. "How long have they been calling?" he asked Edward.

"Since yesterday morning and it's been almost nonstop," Edward said, annoyed, as the phone continuing to ring. "I'm about to pick up and say things that would embarrass a convict."

Surprisingly, Mr. Miller held out his hand. "May I?"

We both stared at him for a beat, curious, but Edward handed the phone over. Mr. Miller didn't waste a second before answering and bringing the cell to his ear.

"Hello, this is Mr. John Howard Miller, to whom do I have the privilege of speaking to?"

Edward and I watched him in silence, and I listened carefully, trying to hear if a distant voice would respond.

Nothing.

"Ah, the shy type, are you?" he went on. "Well, please note, if you're trying to reach a specific party, they are no longer in possession of this phone. You'll have to deal with me from now on and I can talk all day - more than a drunken fool, I can."

I pressed my lips together, holding back a giggle.

"Are they still there?" Edward asked quietly.

Mr. Miller gave a short nod. "I suppose if you're going to play along, then perhaps I might pass on some information. Harassment of any kind, even in silence, is crossing a line. Once these lines are crossed, there are consequences."

And then there was a moment, such a fleeting one that I wondered if I imagined it, where I saw a sliver of angry, deep hatred in his eyes - one that made my blood chill.

"Someone once told me 'Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up'. I suggest you heed that advice and leave _everyone _alone."

With that, Mr. Miller ended the call and took a breath, gazing hard at the screen. In the next moment, his face softened and he appeared like his normal, pleasant self as he gave us a small smile. "Forgive me, I have no patience for such monkey business. I hope they'll leave you be."

Edward took his phone and pocketed it, looking at him with a sort of awe. "Thanks, John. That was some interesting advice."

Mr. Miller chuckled. "I'll bet Ms. Bella has heard it before."

I raised my eyebrows. "Huh?"

He only winked at me. "Well, then. I'll leave you two to your adventures." He smoothed his tie and looked toward the skies. "You should have plenty of sun before the storm rolls in."

"If we can even see any in there," I said, pointing to the woods.

"Oh, I'm sure Edward can show you something beautiful, all right," he remarked, giving Edward a wink as well.

"I'll do my best," Edward said, nudging my arm. Whatever that meant.

Mr. Miller took a few steps toward the drive that led to the road. "Well, have fun, kids. Just promise me you'll take care of each other."

"Right. No bear dens," I said to Edward. "I promised him."

He chuckled and waved to Mr. Miller, and I did the same. "See you later, John."

"Bye!" I called, watching Mr. Miller smile, turn on his heel, and make his way down the gravel road.

"So, we're really going in the woods?" Edward asked, swinging our hands. "Why don't we go pick up your truck? We can walk there."

I'd forgotten about that already. "Oh," I said, sort of disappointed. "Can't we just drive over when we get back? Mr. Miller got me in the mood to see the trails."

"Am I the only one who thinks it's strange he's suddenly gung-ho about us heading in there?"

"No, I definitely think it's weird. But then again, what hasn't been strange in the past couple days? I'm trying not to think about it and just going with the flow, that's all." I pulled his hand and headed toward the back of the lodge. "Besides, it'll be fun to do something different. Let's go be outdoorsy. Then later when we meet Angela and Ben, we'll tell them we saw Bigfoot or something."

Edward stopped walking. "Oh, wait. Ben's not feeling well, actually - he sent me a message earlier. They want to know if we can postpone dinner until tomorrow or Monday."

"Oh… yeah, that's fine," I said, frowning. "Aw, poor Ben. I hope he's okay."

"If he's got Angela looking after him, I'm sure he'll be fine," he said. "And with all these weather changes, it's no wonder. But, uh… since we no longer have set plans, why don't we just turn around and go spend the day in bed?"

I laughed at his smirk. "We just did that yesterday."

"We went out later," he protested. "Bed still sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Not before ten o'clock. I'm restless."

Suddenly, it was like pulling an iron statue. Edward playfully resisted my tugging, stopping frequently to draw me back into his arms and lock me in his grasp. "C'mon, Bella, they're just trees. Green and green and … green. Nothing spectacular."

"Hey, watch it," I said, acting wounded. "You're hurting the corner of my heart that's reserved for Robert Frost and your eye color. I'm going in the woods with or without you."

"Are you sure you don't want to just stretch out on the hill? It's private back here. We could… I don't know. Make out a little."

I snorted. "I can tell by the look in your eyes that if you so much as lie down for two seconds, you're going to curl into a ball and try to nap. Don't think I don't know you by now."

"I won't sleep," he insisted, resting his hands on my waist. "I just want to be close to you. You know, before I'm drugged up on anti-anxiety pills and get celibate."

"Oh, cut it out," I said, chuckling. "Look, we can do it every hour on the hour if you want, but take a walk with me first."

Edward sighed heavily as I pulled him closer to the tree line. "Tick tock, Bella. That's the sound of your sex life disappearing."

"Or maybe drugs will have the opposite effect on you and my sex life will just be _beginning_."

We bantered back and forth as we entered the clearing and eventually ended up walking amid thick stalks of trees and greenery, our feet leaving shoe prints in the dirt trail. It seemed like a normal patch of woods - nothing I couldn't have imagined myself - but after a few bends, the path seemed to stretch and cultivate into a beautiful scenery. A backdrop of colors painted across the forest in various greens and gold yellows, and a rich brown meandered through in branches and bark and earth, creating a novel environment. The air was cooler under the cover of the trees and smelled fresh, earthen - like breathing the air of untouched land, unmarred by society. Just rustic wind and dewdrops and purity.

Besides the rustle of the breeze and quiet snaps of twigs, along with the distant sound of chirping birds, Edward and I were mostly silent, taking in the surroundings and simply commenting how nice it was. We walked for awhile, slowly but steadily, and I borrowed Edward's phone to take pictures of thin, moss-covered trees that snaked and tangled together to form a large point, a tree that had lost all but one red leaf, and (my favorite) a petite, wooden bridge over a creek.

"How long do you think this has been here?" I asked, running my hand over the ancient wood and staring down into the still water. I could see our mirror images as clear as glass.

"It seems old," Edward answered, and I saw my reflection suddenly grow a pair of bunny ears.

I turned to swat his hand, but he was faster and ended up lifting me to sit on the edge of the handrail; the added height made me almost as tall as he was. I wrapped my legs around him to make him come closer. "I like this view," I told him. "I don't see as much nose hair up here."

Edward scoffed and slowly tilted me backwards until I was hovering over the water. "Maybe if you were nicer, I'd pull you back up," he teased as I playfully shrieked.

The breeze picked up, blowing my hair and passing through my clothes, and I gave him a smirk before letting go of his hands and falling back. I didn't go very far, seeing as I still had my legs around him - that, and he grabbed my waist and cried, "Bella, Jesus!"

I only laughed and stretched my arms, closed my eyes and filled my lungs with fresh air.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Pretending I'm flying," I said with a grin. My hoodie flapped below me like a little cape. "I used to do this to Charlie all the time. When I was still small enough, he'd set me on his shoulders and give me rides. He used to freak out when I'd just let go and fall."

"No wonder," he said, tightening his grip on my back.

"I just love this feeling. You can feel the wind everywhere… up your back, through your hair, your fingers. Like being airborne. It's freeing. I would always pretend I was floating on clouds, sun tanning in the sky - at least until my stomach muscles gave out and I would just hang upside down and giggle. When Charlie wasn't calling me 'Bellie', he called me 'Monkey'."

I took a few more moments of "flying" before, sure enough, my abs started to burn. I opened my eyes and smiled up at Edward, who was watching me reflectively, the corner of his mouth set in a small, upward curve. When I reached out my hand for help, he grasped it and pulled me up.

"I love these little things about you," he said, his voice as tranquil as our surroundings. "Your quirks and memories… You light up when you talk about them, you know. You make everything feel familiar, even when I'm learning them for the first time."

I gave a quiet laugh, shaking my head. How was I supposed to follow that kind of sincerity? "You're kind of romantic under that manly exterior, aren't you?"

He simply stared at me for a while longer with the same satisfied smile, then rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you're just _now _noticing. We both know my cool points are below sea level."

"_Your _cool points? Might I remind you of the times I spoke _poetry _to you?"

"I do, so it's safe to say that you started it and it's your fault I'm so damn sentimental."

He leaned in for a quick kiss and lent me a hand when I hopped down from the rail. The wind blew harder and dried leaves sprinkled from the trees, a colorful rainfall. I loved every bit of it.

"It's so pretty here," I said, unable to help shivering a bit. "Although, I wish the sun would find more of a way in."

"I can fix that, actually. Want to see something?" he asked with a sudden boyish sparkle in his eyes.

I nodded, of course, and he took my hand and led me across the rest of the bridge. Instead of continuing to follow the leaf-covered path, he studied the line of trees to the side before steering us off course. When we reached two skinny tree trunks that formed an 'x', there was a space of sorts - an off-beaten trail - and he led me toward it, deeper into the woods.

"Uh… I did promise Mr. Miller we wouldn't go looking for wild animals, you know," I reminded him, glancing over my shoulder and watching the little bridge disappear from sight.

He chuckled. "Just trust me."

-:-

* * *

I didn't really want to end it there (even though I told some of you I wouldn't), but I'm starting to get a nagging feeling about posting overly-long chapters. What would have been the second half of this is about 75% complete (but being a pain in the ass to write) and instead of making everyone wait longer, I decided to just give you guys this bit here and hopefully have the rest out within the week. Life is just busy!

Anyway, you guys are great and your reviews spoil me senseless because you all are too kind, but it's so nice to hear from you. If I haven't replied, I'm so sorry - I'm probably doing stuff like trying not to burn down my kitchen and working and, occasionally, sleeping. Haha. Just know I appreciate your feedback and I do this http:/tinyurl[dot]com/6g2mgoc when I receive alerts. xoxo

P.S. This is like the Neverending Story. Are you guys really still reading this one? ;) Someone just told me they've been reading since the first chapter went up. I'm floored. I've had friends get married and get pregnant since then. O.O *enter WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? moment here*


	36. The Light & the Dark Pt 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I could own something, though, I'd want to own The Hunger Games. Anyone else with me on that? Hands? *fights the urge to make a Ferris Bueller joke*

lanamoosh does the beta stuff and helps by being all-around awesome. queenofgrey does the hand-holding and bitch-slapping when I need it. Ben & Jerry's does the 'soothing my soul' part. And the Easter Bunny scares me. (That's just a random fact of the day.)

Skip this if the first line doesn't pertain to you: I know some of you guys are fed up with how long this is and how long it's taken me to write it, how I still haven't revealed everything within that time, and trust me - ME TOO! lol. By no means do I claim to be writing some great novel - I know it would be hacked to death in editing in terms of length, detail and plot, and be completely rejected. When I started, I'd never tried to write a long story before and bit off more than I could chew. Sometimes I just want to stop writing this and start something different with a fresh slate and write the way I do _now_, if that makes sense - shorter, to the point, not as much in-between - but for the sake of continuity, I'm sticking to pretty much the same style with which I began. However, I did start this with the purpose to finish it and I'm still aiming for that. I completely understand if anyone decides, "Eh, this isn't for me anymore. I've lost interest." Perfectly okay. I'm just having fun with a hobby, and I want you guys to as well. No pressure on either end, right? ;) If you stick around, I'm so glad. If not, I don't blame you. :)

Chapter 35 Recap: Mr. Miller and Bella had a nice chat, breakfast, and a few chess games (where she actually _beat _him - or did she?). Since Edward was all sleepy & irritated over someone phone-stalking him, she made him take a walk with her. IN THE WOODS. (Surprise!) _And _Mr. Miller was the one who suggested it. (Double surprise!) Anyway, Bella & Edward are in the woods enjoying nature, and he suddenly decides to take her off the beaten path. What are you thinking, Edward? Do you not watch Investigation Discovery? Just kidding, he's being spontaneous.

* * *

-:-

I walked along with Edward, stepping over piles of mossy undergrowth and dodging rogue branches - not to mention wondering where he was taking me and if he would remember his way back. Though, we did seem to be walking straight; there were no impulsive turns or hesitation on his part.

"You'd never even know it was here," he said, lifting me over a small agglomeration of thorns and pointing. In the distance, I could see rays of sunlight coming through a small clearing.

"What is it?" I asked, curious.

"Something I forgot about until just a minute ago."

As we approached the gap in the trees, I could see a large stretch of land that almost seemed to be glowing with light. It turned out to be a meadow of sorts, a circle of flowing grass that rippled in the wind, brilliantly green and gold and wavelike in its movement. Sure enough, the sun was bright and warm and high in the azure sky; when I looked across the expanse, I could see scattered tips of dewy wheat glistening under the brilliant gleam.

"Wow," I said, taking in the lovely sight. "How did you know this was here?"

Edward sighed softly. "I found it by accident, months ago. I was having a bad day and ran off course for the hell of it. To speak your language, I guess I took the road less traveled by*."

I knew he was smirking before I turned to look at him, and sure enough...

"This is what John was hinting at - for me to show you something nice. I told him about it awhile back. Do you like it?"

I let go of his hand to walk further out, slowly spinning to get a full view. "It's beautiful. I've honestly never seen anything like it. It's dreamlike."

"Mm-hmm." Behind me, I felt him gather my hair off my shoulder and press his lips to my neck. "There were flowers when I first came here. I guess it got too cold, but it was like something out of a book."

Proving his words true, dried-up purple and blue petals layered the ground and added another sprinkle of color over the grass and autumn leaves. I crouched down to get a handful and let them fly from my fingers like blown dandelion.

"I wish I would have remembered to bring you here sooner," Edward continued. "It would have been a nice change from our bedrooms."

"Oh? To do what exactly?" I asked with a grin.

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Read, of course."

I snorted and got to my feet, reaching out to grab his waist. "You know, if you wanted to have a forest fantasy, all you had to do was ask."

"Really?" He placed his hands on the small of my back, bringing my hips to meet his. "That easy?"

"Ha! Since when have I played hard to get?"

"About thirty minutes ago," he said pointedly.

Well, I couldn't really argue with that.

For kicks, I broke away from him, unwilling to let him manipulate me into a mess of hormones, and took off my sweater. "I don't know about you," I said, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt, "but I could use some sun." I stretched out on the grass, which I expected to be coarse from the season, but it was surprisingly soft and tickly. I tangled the blades between my fingers, loving the texture and fresh scent of it. "Are you joining me or going to watch me sunbathe?"

"Why don't you just take off your shirt?"

I gave him the hairy eyeball and he put his hands up in defense, smiling as he sat on the ground. "I'm not being perverted, I'm just picturing your face when you see you've got a farmer's tan."

I considered that. "I'll take off mine if you take off yours."

He looked down at himself and shrugged. "Deal," he said, lifting his long-sleeved shirt over his head and laying it behind him like a little towel. He settled himself beside me and raised his eyebrows. "Well? Lose the shirt, Swan."

"Man, you would think I've been holding the goods to myself for a month," I said, grinning and rolling my eyes. "What is it, a full moon tonight?"

"Hey, you were the one who said I wasn't allowed to lie down because I'd fall asleep on you," he pointed out. "You're my incentive to stay awake."

"My boobs, not my company?" I teased as I sat up to remove my own shirt. I could feel his eyes on me, softer than the sweep of the wind, and I couldn't pretend that I didn't enjoy how he stared at me like I was something beautiful. I placed my shirt behind my back, copying his action, and then removed my shoes and socks. It might have sounded silly, but I wanted to feel the grass between my toes, too.

"Take off mine while you're up there?"

"Your shoes or your pants?" I asked, smirking.

"Now who's getting greedy?"

I undid his shoelaces and such, making his feet match mine, then fell onto my back. "Don't worry, we're not allowed to touch."

"What? Why?"

I laughed at the surprise in his voice. "Tan lines," I said. "I can't have a white print of your arm reaching across my chest to grope me." I was joking, of course, but he pouted like I was serious. "Fine, fine," I relented, and he rolled his eyes when I only linked my little finger around his; it was too much fun to not tease him.

We lay in silence for awhile, letting the warmth of the sun soak into us. The heat and sound of the rustling trees were reminiscent to the crash and roll of summer waves and it was so pleasant, I could have drifted right off. The thought made me turn my head to Edward. His eyes were closed as I expected, and I wondered if he might have fallen asleep already. I curled my pinky a bit tighter, squeezing his finger.

"I'm awake," he said, though he kept his eyes shut.

Smiling, I rolled onto my side and reached over to caress his arm. "You know, Renée told me it was eighty-six degrees the other day at home. After Thanksgiving, we can go to the beach and do this the right way. You know, without jeans and hiking boots."

I felt giddy thinking of balmy sand under my feet and the sparkle of sunlight on the water, the delight of rubbing sunscreen on his back - and probably aloe on his sunburn, afterward.

"So I get to see you in a bathing suit, huh?" He cracked an eyelid. "Bikini?"

I laughed. "If you want. Sorry to disappoint you, but it might not look much different than this," I said, pointing to my bra.

"Not if it's a G-string," he said, letting his eyes wander to the front of my jeans.

I wrinkled my nose. "Um, dream on. Unless you want to put one on with me." He, too, made a face, and then even I had to cringe. "Yeah, never mind. Even you couldn't pull that off."

"Maybe I'll put on a mankini."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Then I'd have to sell you to a circus."

"And what would my talent be?"

"You just put on that mankini and do a few cartwheels. People will be horrified and mesmerized at the same time."

Edward grinned halfheartedly, suddenly looking a bit preoccupied. "I wish we could leave sooner."

"It's only a few days away," I said, stretching to play with his hair. "Minus today, I'd advise you to soak up as much of the cold weather as you can. You'll go into humidity shock when we get to Florida."

"I'm looking forward to it, actually."

"I don't know. Wait until you see my hair. You'll be begging me to shave my head so the frizz doesn't poke you in the eye." He laughed, but I was half serious. "One summer in Phoenix, I cut my own hair because I was tired of it getting so wavy and untamed. I was going for the pixie-cut, but Renée caught me before I could finish. She was so pissed. She wouldn't let me cut the rest, so I had a mullet until October."

He barked a laugh and uttered, "Man, I hope your mom saved pictures of that."

"Oh, no," I warned. "No baby pictures. You aren't allowed to see. No."

"Oh, I'm having her pull out _all _the albums. Halloween costumes, ballet recitals, the famous bathtub picture…" He continued while I groaned, and I eventually covered his mouth and threatened a tickle war. He raised his hands in surrender, adding, "If it makes you feel better, I was at the lake once and got too close to a fire pit. No kidding, I lost half of my bangs and actually singed off an eyebrow."

His declaration started a slew of confessions and embarrassing stories between us, and as time passed, our cheeks grew pink with laughter as well as from the overhead sun. We turned on our stomachs as the conversation turned to memories that stuck out in our minds as children. I told him that before Renée introduced me to peanut butter fudge twirl ice cream, vanilla was my favorite flavor because it was Charlie's, and he used to ask me if I wanted "icy clouds" for dessert. Edward relayed that every time he received a good report card, his dad would take him out for deep dish pizza and to the batting cages, where they would hit "home runs" until the sun went down.

I loved to watch his eyes shine with fondness and delight at the mention of his family instead of melancholy, and I wanted to immerse myself in his words and memories until they were a part of me, too. Feeling young at heart, I wished that the day wouldn't end. I wanted to stay out in this secret, middle-of-nowhere haven and have time stop until we said so.

Inevitably, though, the sun began to fade and the clouds drifted over us in giant, grey puffs. I lamely joked about 'Marshmallow Storm Troopers', which launched Edward into a story about a family camping trip and how he'd participated in a roasted marshmallow eating contest. "I got to twenty-four before puking all over my cousin," he said with a grimace. "It was even more gross because we'd just eaten hot dogs and I put a mountain of mustard on mine. My cousin called me Mellow-Yellow until I was eighteen."

I couldn't stop laughing after that and he pulled me on top of him, grinning.

"I was eleven, then," he defended himself. "I could probably do it now."

"Please don't try," I giggled. "There's a marshmallow topping I make for sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving, so don't make me feel the need to hide the bag from you, okay? If there…"

It was then that something dawned on me, something I was surprised I hadn't remembered sooner.

"What?" he asked when I didn't finish.

My mouth dropped at my sudden realization. "Damn you, Edward! You still haven't told me the rest of that damn pie recipe!"

He looked slightly confused before breaking into a cocky smile. "Oh, yeah. Sweet potato pie. I completely forgot."

"You better not mean you forgot the _ingredients_, because-" I stopped, feeling a cool tickle on my bare back. I glanced up at the sky, surprised. Sure, it had become overcast, but I wasn't expecting the weather to turn so soon. Had hours gone by already? "Is it raining? Did you feel that?"

"No. You're kind of on top of me," he pointed out, pinching my waist and peering at the clouds. "Do you think we should go?"

If we didn't want to get wet, then yes, I knew we should get up and go. But…

"Not until you tell me all the secret ingredients," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "Because I know what you're going to do. You'll withhold them from me until Wednesday night and instead of _me _baking a pie for my dad, I'll have to buy one from Tom and you'll taunt me all throughout the holiday until I'm on my knees and begging you."

It was definitely raining. A slight drizzle had started but was quickly picking up, as was the breeze. I still didn't move.

"You really think I'd be so cruel?" he asked, taking a hold of my shoulders, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Yes," I answered seriously.

Edward snorted. "Bella, come on, we're getting wet." He wriggled underneath me and began to lift me from his chest.

"_No_," I said, and even though I could feel the sprinkle turn to fast-falling drops, I still kept a strong hold on him, locking my legs around his so he couldn't bend his knees. "Come on. Tell me."

"Are you kidding right now?"

I creased my eyebrows in a mock-glare and he taunted me with only one raised brow. I knew what that meant. I was in for it.

"Don't you dare. Edward, don't even think about-"

I really should have known better, as he was much stronger than I was, and I screamed for him to stop as he started tickling my sides. Only moments later, our surroundings seemed to transform into a flooded grassland: the skies opened and rain poured, falling in thick sheets, soaking us as we shrieked and doubled over and wrestled until we could barely breathe.

When I finally managed to wrench myself out of his grasp, I pinned him down and gripped his shoulders. "I'm not giving up, you know! We can stay out here all day!"

"You're tenacious, woman," he managed to say through his hysterics, though he could hardly shout. I'd never seen him laugh so hard.

"_Tell me_!" I yelled over the raucous downpour, smiling so wide that my face hurt.

He caught his breath and rolled his eyes, blinking away the rainwater that was streaming into them, and finally cried, "Fine, fine! Frangelico! That hazelnut liqueur! Tom brushes it over the crust and puts it in the pie mix!"

I froze in the middle of our tangled hug, took a moment to think about it, and shouted, "_What_? The _nun _bottle? _That's _his secret?"

"Yes, and that's all!"

"Are you _sure_?"

With a playful growl, he sat up, bringing me with him. "Yes! Yes, Julia Child, you now have the power in your hands. Are you _happy_?"

I couldn't help sputtering over another laugh. "I am. Was that so hard?" I said in jest, kissing his cheek before scrambling to my feet. "Come on, before it starts hailing next!"

With a little yelp, I quickly gathered my belongings and began to sprint for the trees.

"Bella!"

I slid on the slick grass as I abruptly stopped, and turned back. Edward was still standing in the field, arms empty, making no move to dash out of the storm with me.

"What are you doing?" I called, shielding my head with my shirt, even though it did no good.

He jogged toward me, reaching out and taking my hand. "First, we're going to want to go that way," he said, pointing in the opposite direction, "but… I have to say something, and if I don't say it now, I'm scared I'll lose my nerve."

"Um… okay?" I had to laugh a little at his choice of making a speech in the pouring rain. I wasn't sure if I should be more curious or worried.

"It's just… I've been thinking about what might happen after this. I know we'll be together for the next week, at least. Afterward, I'm not sure where I'm going to end up, you know?"

I stared at him, studying the uncertain look in his eyes, and slowly felt my clothes and shoes fall from my grip. My throat grew tight and I took a small step back, instantly thinking the worst, but Edward squeezed my hand, not allowing me to pull away.

He gave me a sheepish smile. "But I know I want it to be with you. Wherever you are."

"_With _me?" I repeated. I hoped I heard him correctly; the weather was vociferous.

When he nodded, I felt an urge to giggle obnoxiously, to beam until my cheeks ached, but he suddenly seemed so serious and I held back.

"And I know you're young and you have plans to do things, things that have absolutely nothing to do with me, but…" He breathed deeply, kneading my fingers with his thumb. "I guess what I'm asking is, would you consider letting me be a part of your life? After we leave?"

He still wore a little crease of nerves between his brows. I wanted to playfully shake him and ask him if he was actually worried that I would rather be with_out_ him, but then I remembered I'd been wondering about the very same situation only hours ago. Taking in the magnitude of what he was saying, I realized my own fears were the same as his - and there was no need for any.

"Edward … you already are," I said, finally letting myself relax, grin. "I don't have to consider anything. You know that."

He pulled me a bit closer, his smile shy, but stunning. "I guess I figure it's impossible for you to love me as much as I love you."

"Incorrect."

"I don't know about that."

The rain was almost blinding, but it was intoxicating to watch it stream from every contour of his body, from the angular curve of his jaw down to the v-shaped groove of his hips. He was so beautiful right then, so lively and completely drenched. Every inch of him was radiant.

"Come home with me," I said, linking our fingers together. "After the holiday, if you decide you like Florida enough to stay, you can stay. Or we can leave, go somewhere else to make plans together. Because wherever I am won't feel like home without you."

He brushed my dripping hair away from my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming all of this, all of you. It feels too good to be real."

"It's real. Get used to it."

I'd never been kissed in the rain before, but it was one for the books when he leaned down to pull me into one I wouldn't soon forget. The way his fist curled in my hair, the mesh of our lips in perfect, eager pressure, the combined taste of the rain and his mouth… it was ideal pleasure. It was brief, though, since the skies were pouring down so viciously. I reached to pick up my things and ran with Edward to get his, and I hurried after him as we raced to the opposite side of the field from which we had come.

I was confused, thinking we would rush back to the lodge - it wasn't that far, after all - but Edward explained that it wasn't the first time he'd gotten stuck in the rain out here. He led us directly to a little grass-covered nook under the trees. A little brink of earth had overgrown around a boulder, posing as a cave without an entrance. It was walled with roots and leafy plants and stretched out above a hill, creating a covering of sorts. It was somewhere we could sit out the storm, anyway.

We peeled off our jeans and used our wet clothes like blankets, settling ourselves atop them and huddling together. While an occasional spray of rain would find its way to us, our makeshift shelter wasn't a bad spot at all. We kissed to keep from shivering, his mouth always finding places to make me feel warm. Light on my lips and under my ear, and he knew just how much pressure I loved on my neck. I could have stayed like that for hours, just kissing and being enveloped in his arms. We could have been, honestly. Time didn't exist for us then, deep in nature as though we were the only ones on Earth.

Eventually, the rain reduced from heavy to light, and even a bit of sun began to peek through the grey sky again. I wandered to the edge of the tree line to get a better look. From what I could see, the clouds were still moving at a steady pace.

"It might let up soon, but probably not for long," I said as I felt Edward's arms wrap around me.

"Anxious to get back?"

Not with the way he made me shiver, having his hands so low on my belly. I turned my chin toward my shoulder, the one on which he was resting his head, and pressed my cheek to his. "I'm not in a hurry, no."

"Mm. Neither am I."

From there, I wasn't sure who started it. When I realized his hands weren't stopping their light fondle, I might have been the one to lead him back in the open, onto the lush grass. He might have been the one to gently lay me on my back, lowering himself on top of me. It could have been the other way around, though; I was too busy concentrating on the feel of the rain and wind - both cool, but Edward was so warm. I smiled against his mouth, loving the chills and bursts of heat that merged on my skin, inside me.

As he moved, letting his lips roam from my neck to my chest, I reached for his shoulders and lifted my hips to brush against him. I wanted to hold him close for this. I tangled my leg around his, stopping him from moving, and was surprised when he drew back.

"Not just yet," he said, his voice smooth. He bent down and kept his head low, and it felt as though he was kissing each of my ribs, his hands in chorus as they granted me generous strokes down my sides. The feeling was surreal, sensual, and I adored how he always thought to stir me up with such sweet, slow burning. My breath picked up as he made me bare and parted my legs, and I drew my fingers through his hair, waiting for him to come back up and meet me face to face.

He didn't.

Instead, his mouth trailed from my stomach to the little crease of my thigh, pressing kisses all the way. I balled my fists, gripping his hair a bit tighter, but I didn't stop him. I wondered if he might touch me or simply tease me - get so close and do nothing, just to drive me mad - and then the thought of him kissing me _there _sent me into a mix of wild hope and half panic. I almost wanted to call out and protest, because this was new and my mind silently argued with him: _Wait… No, don't. No, _do_. Please. Now. Or wait…_

In between the unbridled want, I was uneasy, self-conscious, and wasn't sure what it would feel like…

_Oh. _

Like a forced pull of gravity, my head fell back against the earth and I closed my eyes, a dizzying sweep of pleasure stirring inside me. He'd done it.

_Holy…_

His mouth was on me with gently-pressured lips and teasing licks and sucks and oh my _God_…

I moaned out loud. This was different, an amazing different - something that made my breath shake in my lungs and my limbs curl. There weren't really _words _as much as there were fragments of obscenities, which didn't exactly sound lovely with my quiet mutters about the Lord, but rushed speech fell from my mouth in whispers before I started saying _his _name.

"Edward…_"_

Of all my reactions - my perceptible desire and writhing movement - saying his name seemed to make him the most eager. His hands dug into my hips, which I unthinkingly pushed forward for more. I had almost no control. My whole body was part of it; my chest heaved and my back arched, my toes curled, and I wasn't even _there _yet. It was intense, and with the added sensation of raindrops sprinkling my skin, unique. My breath was thick in my throat and small gasps left the tip of my tongue, and moans replaced my pleas, and all I could do was fist handfuls of the grass to keep from crying out… and then I realized I could be as loud as I wanted because we were in the middle of nowhere.

I wrapped a leg behind Edward's back and his tongue drove me crazy, closer, tracing shapes and circles as if completing a brilliant code that was meant only for me. There was a rise - a feeling, warm and fluttery - that tightened in my belly, in my chest. I could only pant and grab his hair, urging with my hands for him to keep going, to not stop - to never stop.

_Oh, God. Oh, please. Oh, fuck. Oh_-

Winded, I didn't have the lung-power to quite scream, but I let myself go and my breathy, carnal cries were uncontrollable, echoing as my body got what it wanted. It was like being suspended in mid air, rippled in pleasure - and admittedly better than my earlier feeling of "flying" on the bridge. A mature version. An ideal version.

I was overheated and trembling, but greatly euphoric as I came down from the high, and looked up at the sky as I caught my breath. The sun was shaded by the clouds, but it still broke through in a split-second window, looking as though it was winking at me. I smiled.

Edward emerged in my line of sight as he sat up, peering down at me with a grin like he'd just created world peace.

"Wow," he said, a little breathless. "I've never seen you blush like this. Good, huh?"

Pointing my finger, I tried to make a joke about sunburn but couldn't even find the energy. He had a right to be a little smug. Hell, he had a right to be _extremely _smug. I reached and pulled his arms until he was hovering over me. "Just kiss me," I managed to say.

I rested with him on my chest for a few minutes, tasting the rain on my lips, and then decided to reciprocate as best I could with the strength I had left. Prudence and shyness aside, I became a bit voracious about wanting to give back, to make him feel twice the gratification he'd just given me. There was no secret that he wanted it too, especially not when I could see and feel him hard against me, but I enjoyed the surprise in his eyes when I pushed him onto his back.

"Your turn," I said.

-:-

I had to admit, I was kind of proud of myself.

Edward was sprawled next to me, still breathless and flushed and completely spent. I'd pushed him to the edge and back, entirely unpracticed, but he hadn't seemed to mind at all - not with the way I'd felt him pull at my hair and shoulders, or the incredible sounds he made as I stroked him with my hands, took him into my mouth. I'd stopped and teased, making the touches and kisses go slow and steady before lowering my hips and letting him fill me, fervently giving him as much I could as he moaned and breathed my name. We'd been with each other for weeks, but never had I seen him … let _go _like that.

Like I said, I was feeling more than a bit pleased. The day had been the best - for both of us, I was sure of it.

It had stopped raining approximately ten minutes ago. The sun was bright again and the wet grass was a gorgeous sight, appearing to be sprinkled with crushed diamonds. Edward was also stunning, lying there with his hand on his chest and crystal drops of water trickling from his hair. I'd curled myself up to him like a spoon, and the _last _thing I wanted to do was get up, but the breeze was growing strong and half of the sky was already getting dark again.

"We should probably head back," I said, raising myself in a sort of pushup. "We might be able to make it before it pours again."

Edward made a grumbling sound, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I'm thinking we should just live here. Just lay here… and never move."

"Well… we'd get snowed on, eventually."

He chuckled quietly. "I don't mind snow."

"Yeah, I'd like to freeze this moment, too," I quipped as I forced myself to stand, "but you were the one who warned me about frostbite. Imagine if what happened to your ear happened to your… you know."

"That would be pretty tragic… losing my toes and all."

I laughed as I stood, and then instantly felt like a hussy as I had to scan the ground to see where my underwear had gone. I was pretty certain no one was around, especially since a mini monsoon had just occurred, but still… I had a nagging feeling. I figured it was just the sense of being naked without walls, like someone might pop out from around a tree with a video camera at any moment. I scurried back to the little stone nook we'd previously sat under and started picking up my clothes. They were spotted with grass and leaves and mud from laying on the ground, and I had half a mind to dunk them in one of the little pools of water that had gathered in the dips of the ground. Figuring that would just make them dirtier, I grudgingly began to put them on.

"Ugh," I whined as I tugged my shirt over my head. Everything was cold and saturated and plain uncomfortable. My jeans were the worst; I could barely pull them up. I heard Edward snickering as I hopped around, struggling to yank them up to my hips. "Going to walk back naked, are you?" I called out.

He snorted, groaning as he finally sat up. "Yes. Completely nude. I might even hang out in front of the lodge and welcome the guests with Carl."

Carl was what we'd named the bear statue by the lodge's entrance.

"Hey, you'd be an amazing attraction. Doris would make millions."

I chucked him the rest of his clothes and he, too, grimaced as he put them on. Shivering, I stooped down to put on my shoes… and _wet socks_. Gross. "I might actually get in the bathtub when we get back. I haven't done that yet, not once. Renée packed me all this ridiculous, girly bath stuff and I haven't even treated myself. I think I'm going to. Want to join me? Honestly, that tub could probably fit three people in it. I promise we'll just relax. You know, since we've probably had enough _play _in the water for one day?"

Aware that I was babbling, I cut myself off and looked up to find Edward gazing across the field. He was motionless - not simply glancing around for enjoyment, just… staring. Oh, God. I hoped he hadn't seen a bear.

"What is it?" I called uncertainly. "You see something?"

"I think so."

I stood up and cautiously walked over to him. "What? You're scaring me."

"No, no - nothing bad," he said, holding out his hand. I took it and he pulled me closer. "I thought I saw a flash, maybe a glare. I guess it was the sun, or something, but… right there. Look."

He pointed and I did as he said. Staring out at the distant tree line, I waited, wondering what I was supposed to be seeing. "Um… trees?"

"See the one that splits in the middle - how the left side swoops down to the ground?"

"Uh huh."

"And then next to it, that rock? It's shaped like an 'M' almost."

I gave him a strange look. "Are you feeling all right?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "It looks like the painting in my room. Imagine more leaves."

When I took a second glance, I was surprised I hadn't seen it right away. The mixed shades of golden foliage, the thin, warm aurora of the sun sifting through the sky, the spattering of leaves and grass in a vast open space… there it was. It didn't just look like it, it _was _the painting in his room. Just very enlarged… and real.

"Weird, isn't it? It's kind of cool, though. Maybe whoever painted it did so right here."

I didn't answer him because, at that moment, another thought struck me. Fuzzy memories of past dreams began to surface in my mind - the ones where I'd been lying in a meadow, just watching the trees sway and the clouds drip from the sky. It could have been anything in my subconscious - nature was nature - but I'd grown up in the desert, with palm trees. And here, the way the trees circled us just the way my dreams had shown, was perplexing. I glanced over my shoulder, squinting back at the small pools of water I'd just seen, the ones that surrounded the thick, brown trunks… Hadn't I dreamt of them before, too?

I had. The first day I'd met Edward.

"Hey, you okay?"

I snapped out of it as he squeezed my hand. "Yeah," I answered through an exhale. "I just…" The painting, the cognizance… it was strange and a bit staggering, like we'd been whispered to by unseen forces to end up right here. I couldn't help but stare at him, watching the cool breeze fan his hair and ripple the fabric of his damp shirt. Edward, in the middle of my dreams come true. "I love you. That's all."

It was his turn to give me a funny look, but he smiled and said, "Love you, too. Ready to go?"

I nodded, taking one more glimpse at everything. Maybe I was being crazy or just on a schmaltzy high after having the mother of all orgasms. It wouldn't be the first time hormones had messed with my head.

We headed back out from where we came in, through the now dripping mass of trees. Even with the impending second storm, we didn't hurry; it wouldn't have done us much good, seeing as the trail had turned into a muddy mess and caused our shoes to stick and squelch with every footstep. I huddled close to him to keep warm, our conversation drifting from how we should make one more visit to the meadow before we left, to placing bets if we would see snow before Wednesday, to where we should go after the holiday. We stuck on that topic all the way back and started to play, racking up pros and cons of where we could live.

"Millennium Park is right across from the lake."

"Okay, but I'm only thirty minutes away from the _ocean_," I pressed. "That scores at least five points."

We were now on Chicago vs. Jacksonville.

"Doesn't it rain everyday in Florida?"

"Usually in the summer, but only for a little while and then the sun comes back."

"Okay, we'll come back to those. Did you give any more thought to Fort Collins? It's quiet. Scenic." It was his favorite vacation spot, too, so he'd told me before.

"Kind of. I don't know, I still vote for Maine, living somewhere right on the cliffs," I said as we cleared the woods and started up the slick hill. I could see the tip of the lodge, probably where our rooms were. "We could wake up and smell the pine trees and walk along the water. It'll be cold, so it'll feel more like home for you, but the sun still comes out enough for me to get my fix."

"Sounds like here, you know," Edward said with a smile, gesturing to the sky. "Well, not right _now_, but… we might as well just stay. I'll buy you a sun lamp."

"Yeah, but Forks doesn't have an almost limitless supply of lobster." I nudged his foot with my own as we finally reached the back of the lodge. "Speaking of which, I'm hungry. You?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, what if _I _cook you something? Tom wouldn't care if I played around in the kitchen."

Edward chuckled. "I don't suppose I could say no to that, huh? What do you have in mind?"

I looked at our dripping clothes. "I'd say it's soup weather."

"Sounds good to me," he said as he rubbed his eyes. "Mind if I nap in the pantry while you cook?"

"Such a man." Though, as I pulled him along, he did resemble a walking/talking something with dying batteries, his footsteps slow and shuffling. "You look beat."

He gave me a smirk. "Well, yeah. Some little minx just ravished me in the woods. I'm exhausted."

I opened my mouth to protest - _he _was the one who had started it - but he silenced me with a kiss. I was like putty - putty that was left on a hot rock, melting away in summertime heat. I groaned and pulled away. "You win. I'm a total minx. But you're a massive manipulator with those lips."

"Oh?" His eyes were shining. He knew.

"Yeah, and it's not fair," I said, unable to hide a grin.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," he added.

As we climbed over the cusp of the hill, we froze, our smiles unfortunately short-lived. In front of the lodge, two police cars stood out by the entrance. They weren't neatly parked in parking spaces, either - just pulled up by the door. One officer was by the stone wall, pacing and speaking into a professional radio, and disappeared down the driveway without seeing us.

Edward and I stared straight ahead for a few moments before looking at each other. As his brow furrowed, he said, "I don't know," answering the questions that were running through both our minds: Why? And what happened?

He tightened his grip on my hand and I unwillingly trudged along with him, nervous about what we were about to encounter. I hoped no one was hurt… Maybe someone was in trouble instead. I didn't want to think that either, but it was better than the first thought.

Both hesitant, we roughly scuffed our wet, muddy shoes on the mats and walked inside, only to be greeted by a very crowded lobby. Doris was standing by her desk with a police officer; they were speaking in too low of voices for me to make out what they were saying. Other people were talking in small groups, buzzing over one another, and I had no clue what to make of it. I glanced at Edward, who had the same perplexed expression.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked him in a hushed voice.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I hope no one's had a heart attack."

I hoped not, either, but it appeared that something was clearly wrong. "If someone was hurt, don't you think we would have seen an ambulance?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it already left."

Eventually, people noticed us. One by one, they fell quiet as they gaped in stunned surprise, as if they knew exactly what we had been up to. It was unnerving, their gawking, blatant stares.

"_Isabella_! _Edward_!"

I jumped as Doris' frenzied voice rang out through the room. Bizarrely, it dawned on me that it was the first time I'd ever heard her call Edward by his first name. No lighthearted 'Mr. Masen', but _Edward_. That was different… serious. She waved away the officer beside her and came straight at us, and a humiliating thought struck me.

_Oh. My. God._

Someone had seen us. One of the church-going, no-horizontal-fun-until-marriage believers had been caught in the storm, too, and saw us going all orgasmic in the middle of nature and in front of _God_, no less. That's why everyone was staring. We were being portrayed as the blackest kind of sinners and had probably broken some sort of "no nude exposure" law. And no matter what reason the cops were here, they wouldn't likely have a problem arresting us, too.

_Fuck. _Charlie would kill us both.

"Where have you _been_?" Doris demanded as she came around the sofa, only seconds away from… well, I didn't know what she was going to do other than scream, but I was scared to find out. I backed up against Edward and was about to lose my cool and bolt when she suddenly threw her arms around me, clutching me against her chest like she had just found a long-lost daughter.

"Oh, honey!" she sobbed, her plump frame shaking and nearly causing me to fall. Edward, thankfully, held onto her shoulders and kept us from tumbling over.

"Doris?" I said, alarmed.

"I thought - I thought-" she said, weeping, unable to get the words out. She wailed into my shoulder, then released me so she could grab a hold of Edward, too. He put a comforting hand on her back and stared at me, his face mirroring my bewilderment. Once he straightened, he looked her in the eyes.

"Doris," he said gently. "Are you okay? Did someone try to rob you? Hurt you?"

"N-n-no," she blubbered. "It's John…" She let out another heartbreaking cry and bawled into Edward's already drenched shirt.

_John_. John Miller?

"Mr. Miller? What about him?" I found myself blurting out, soaking up her panic. "Is he all right?"

She only sobbed. I felt as though my heart was suddenly creeping its way into my throat, finally realizing that this was not about me and Edward and our rendezvous in the woods at all. I narrowed my eyes to a group of women who were standing by the stairs and stared at them, silently pleading for someone to reassure me that, _somehow_, everything was still okay - that there had just been some kind of scare.

"Tom found that poor man right down the street on Fern Hill about an hour ago," said one of the women with a quiver in her voice.

My mouth dropped. I had to replay her words in my head a few times before speaking. "Found him? He's not…?" I whispered, unable to bring myself to say what I was thinking.

She nodded somberly. "He didn't make it. They think it might have been a rogue animal from the mountains. Maybe a cougar."

My heart was throbbing with a pressing ache. _Oh, my God…_

Doris emerged from the fabric of Edward's shirt. "Y-you both were gone for so long and someone said they saw you leave on foot, but n-no one had heard from you! I thought … I thought it had gotten you, too!"

She was half a second away from shrieking and falling apart. Edward quickly and protectively wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he led her to one of the chairs by the nearest officer, consoling her with his delicate words and small pats with his hands. I watched him in silent awe; he was in action, and I couldn't move.

My body felt as if it had turned to rock. I barely managed to stagger to an empty armchair, dropping into the cushion like an anchor. It was swallowing me thickly, this heart-wrenching truth that was slowly sinking in.

He was dead. Mr. Miller was dead. My enigmatic, charming, grandfather-like friend. Gone_. Dead._

_No._

The whole realization was like slipping on a rolling patch of ice. The way your feet would fly out from under you so fast, and the world would spin as you hit the ground, and colors would flash in pinpricks behind your eyes until you were dizzy, until darkness came. Shock after shock stacked up in gravid layers, and I could feel it upon my shoulders like steel fog.

A hand rested on my shoulder, but I didn't look to see who it belonged to. I heard words that might have been directed at me, but I didn't answer or ask for reiteration. I forgot to breathe, too, because my chest began to burn and I had to loudly gasp a breath of air before the pain dissipated.

There were murmurs and sighs that filled the room like a bleak melody. This was a small town; Mr. Miller was probably known by more people than I thought. I darted my eyes to different faces, searching through their sorrow. I'd lost sight of Edward. I curled my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms and feeling warm sweat. Where was he? I needed him. I needed to see his face. Before I could go to pieces, I spotted him in the far corner speaking to a policeman. He appeared calm, but when his eyes met mine for a moment, he looked concerned, remorseful, and his mouth dipped into a frown before he turned to reply to the officer. I wondered what he was saying, what they were asking him. Would someone want to question me, too?

As it turned out, they did. An officer eventually came to my side, stooped to my level and began inquiring. What was my full name? Oh, I was Charlie's kid? What was my relationship with Mr. Miller like? How involved was I with Edward? We'd been seen talking to Mr. Miller earlier that morning - did he say where he was heading? Had we followed him at all? Had we seen anything strange outside? Heard anything? Where had we been?

I felt out of sorts as I solemnly answered. We hadn't seen anything. We hadn't heard anything. We'd only been in the woods, walking. We'd been together, lying in the fields. Waiting out the storm.

My thoughts raced in flickers.

Edward's hand in my hand and his hands on me and mine on him, and the air and rain were cold and hot and heaven, and all the while Mr. Miller had been dying, dead, lying cold and bleeding, and how could he be dead when I just talked to him hours ago and he had been fine, alive, and telling me to take care of -

_Just promise me you'll take care of each other._

The woods. He'd meant in the woods. Right? Surely he meant for us to be safe on the trails. He didn't mean for them to be his final, departing words. He'd been smiling, content. He was going to visit his children. He couldn't have known he was going to… No. Impossible. It'd been an animal - a cougar. A horrible accident. Oh, the blood. There must have been so much blood.

I felt dizzy and bent over in my chair, letting my head hang low to my knees, my hair curtaining my face. A riptide of thoughts swirled in my mind like a storm. Jesus, that road. Fern Hill Road - it was only a few lanes away. Edward and I had walked on that street before, mostly because it was quiet and surrounded by trees. If Mr. Miller hadn't persuaded us to go into the woods, we might have been walking along that very street. We could have been hurt or killed, too, like a death trap waiting for us. His change of heart about us venturing into the forest had been suspicious, but it could have saved our lives.

Another hand brushed my back. At first I thought it was the officer who had questioned me, but it was the warm, gentle hold behind my ear that snapped me out of my daze. I sat up to find Edward standing next to my chair, cupping my neck. He leaned down and softly whispered, "Come on, Bella." I slowly stood and he steadied me in front him before brushing his fingers over my cheeks. Wet. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

I nodded. It was a boldfaced lie.

"Let's go." He placed a quick kiss to my temple and led me past the people who were still staring at us because we were, in fact, alive. Edward rubbed his forehead, lost in his own thoughts, and as we walked closer to the stairs, my eyes wandered. I spotted Tom sitting at one of the café tables with an officer. They were speaking in subdued voices, but I was able to make out enough - just enough - to make my heart skip.

"…throat was entirely ripped out."

I halted, my feet freezing in place. Tom's voice was monotone as he continued, "Body half shredded, eyes missing. Like I said, there was only the smallest bit of blood. I can't make sense of it. It was freakish. It was like one of those cougars sucked him dry with a straw. And his throat was just… gone."

Tom then caught my eye and his anxious expression softened, apologetic over the words I wasn't supposed to hear. I felt my bottom lip begin to quiver as a dreadful sort of iciness crept over me. Though I was shocked, I couldn't stop myself from gazing over at Edward, hoping he'd been distracted by something else. But his softhearted green eyes had grown fierce. He'd heard, too.

I barely felt the weight of my wet shoes as we climbed the stairs. I hardly registered climbing them at all, but somehow we ended up on the very top floor. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, and my chest ached with a pounding _thump thump thump, _like prodding at a bruise.

_This isn't happening_.

I could hear Edward start to pace, and I wanted to open my eyes and grab him and tell him it wasn't true - that what he was thinking was absurd - because it was an _animal attack_, not a murder. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't even budge.

Silence, silence, silence, and then a shattering crack cut through it all. I recoiled from the noise, gasping, and turned to see Edward pummeling his fist into the wall, again and again as a growling sort of scream rose in his throat.

I tried to call his name, but my voice was an insubstantial whisper. "Stop," I said anyway, grasping the back of his shirt and pulling. "Edward, stop it!"

He did, finally, his breath coming in furious pants. He stretched his hands to the wall, hanging his head, and I swallowed nausea when I saw he was bleeding. I watched blood trickle over his knuckles, down his hand, and slowly dribble onto the carpet. It could have been paint. Drip, drip, drip. I couldn't stop staring.

Was this what shock was like?

The minutes that followed crawled, but were more or less rounding; it figured that as soon as he started to calm, it was then that _I _began to lose it. I stepped away and bit back a sob, feeling the blow of grief hit me with an odd sort of fury. Blood rushed in my ears like turbulent groundswell and it was all too much, just too much. When Edward glanced over his shoulder, the fire in his eyes vanished almost instantly. He tucked his injured hand into his sleeve, swearing under his breath, and reached for me.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he hugged me close. The long-anticipated thunder finally sounded, raging from above the roof. I wound my arms further around his back, and he ran his fingers through my hair, soothing me. "Shh, honey, it's okay."

I really tried to not break down completely, but my eyes were stinging, my chest was burning, and I became a goddamn cloudburst right on his shirt. He sat on the ground and pulled me into his lap, and I reached up to pull his head down to mine, unable to feel close enough to him. He murmured words of comfort and I lightly stroked his hair. After awhile, I wasn't sure who was consoling whom.

Ultimately, we both grew silent and still; even the raindrops that were ricocheting off the roof seemed to slow. I lifted my head and looked at Edward, tracing my fingers along his jaw until he gazed down at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Crying had given me a little bit of clarity, but he nodded woodenly, his eyes not giving away much emotion. "I - I think we should change." I didn't want to leave his embrace so soon, but we were both still in cold, saturated clothes.

"Yeah." He slowly stood and helped me up. "You should shower. Get warm."

"Okay," I agreed. Other than his arms, it was the next best thing. "You too. I'll come to you when I'm finished?"

I didn't want to be alone or away from him, for that matter. He bobbed his head in agreement and stroked my neck, then turned to go to his room, looking somber. Sighing, I turned to enter my own door and reluctantly went inside, alone.

In the shower, I couldn't enjoy the hot water on my skin. My thoughts blurred, and after standing under the stream for a considerable amount of time, not even bothering to shampoo my hair or use the soap, I turned off the faucet and stepped out onto the chilled floor. It was too early for pajamas, but I didn't care. I pulled on flannel pants and one of Edward's t-shirts, and only dried my hair because I didn't want to be cold. When I had nothing else to do, I grabbed a pillow from my bed and walked out into the hall.

It was going to be a long, sad night.

Before I opened Edward's door, I squeezed my eyes closed, willing them to stop tearing up. I didn't want to cry in front of him anymore. I knew if he saw tears dripping down my face, he would concentrate solely on me and instantly stuff his emotions in a metaphorical hole. We'd _both _lost a good friend. He needed the chance to come to terms with it as much as I did.

When I finally opened the door, it was like déjà vu. Edward's bags were on his bed and he was collecting handfuls of clothes and tidbits to stuff inside them. I stared for a few moments, then rubbed my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked tiredly.

He turned, looking frazzled. "Oh, I… I think we should go. We should leave. Now. This is… I don't want to stay here. Will you come with me?"

"Whoa. Edward," I said, closing the door.

"I'll help you pack," he insisted, tossing some toiletries in his bag. "I just need to…" He looked around, as if unsure of what to do next.

"I think you should sit down," I offered quietly. His hands were trembling. If he wasn't careful, he was going to set off a textbook panic attack within seconds. "I should, too. Let's sit and talk about this for a minute."

He hesitated, drawing his fingers through his hair, his forehead lined with worry. As I pulled him to sit on the bed, he gave a heavy sigh, seeming shaken. Maybe it was just the neon-orange _C _on his sweatshirt that clashed with his complexion, but his face appeared ashen, too. His eyes matched mine, though - red and watery. He'd been crying as well.

I set my pillow to the side and opened my palm. "Let me see your hand."

Edward held up his right hand and I took it in mine. His fingers were freezing, only warm on the pink, swollen flesh over his knuckles. The blood had been washed away, but they were still gashed and definitely going to bruise. "I didn't break anything," he told me, curling his hand into a fist and back. "It'll be fine."

"I'll get you some ice as soon as the lobby's less crowded."

"It's not a big deal."

I gently ran my thumb over the damage and glanced at him, concerned. "Why are you packing your stuff?"

"We can't stay here. Not now," he said, squeezing his temples with his good hand. "You heard."

I had heard. "It _can't _be what you think. It's just…"

"Impossible?" he finished with a scoff. "You can't be certain either, not for sure. And I know you think I'm nuts, but-"

"I _don't _think you are, but… these kind of accidents aren't unheard of." I hated to use such a word, to avoid speaking Mr. Miller's name for the sake of sensitivity, but I was too afraid I'd start bawling. "It's horrible, but these things happen up here, especially with all this forestry. There have been cougar attacks here before. Bears. Coyotes."

"Those animals attack for _meat_, not blood."

My stomach twisted at his words and I felt the color drain from my face. I tried to gather the words to tell him that maybe one _did _- because where on earth could the blood have gone, after all - but the thought made me feel sick.

"You heard Tom. You heard what he-" Edward paused, swallowed. "His blood. His eyes. It was the same with my mom."

His… mom?

Staring at him, I was speechless, feeling my eyes sting and pressure build in my throat. A subtle fold was noticeable in his cheeks, as though he was sucking them in slightly. To keep from crying, maybe? Or just holding back a roar of frustration? I wasn't sure. Eventually, he turned to the empty fire grate and dropped his head into his hands, working his fingers over his eyes and breathing heavily. "Shit. Just… God _damn _it."

"No one could have done anything to prevent it," I tried again, aching to dispel the mental image of gashed wounds on Mr. Miller's cold, perished body from my mind, as well as picturing Edward's beautiful mother without the same exact eyes he'd inherited.

"They don't know what to make of it, I'm telling you," he said, his voice raw. "The police didn't just ask me if I saw any_thing_ strange, they asked if I saw any_one_ strange. These murders, Bella - they're not old news. Just because I've stopped looking doesn't mean they've stopped happening."

I shook my head and rubbed his arm, trying to ease his distress. "No," I said. "No, it's… no."

I didn't want to think, not even for a moment, that he could be right. He was simply thinking of Chicago and his parents, and other families, other people who had been slaughtered. It wasn't something to be easily erased. His grief and anger were present in his trembling, which soon turned to shuddering, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Edward."

I grasped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. After only a moment, I pulled my head back in concern. He felt hot, sweaty. Something wasn't right. He looked away, but I didn't miss the sudden flush in his face, the quiver of his bottom lip or the sound of his teeth snapping together. The trembling wasn't just from his oscillating emotions. He was shivering.

"Are - are you okay?" I asked him, feeling alarm creep into my chest.

He nodded quickly, but that didn't deter my worry.

"You're not," I accused. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just in shock."

"That's not what I mean. You're shaking. Are you _cold_?"

He narrowed his eyes to me. "Are you not?"

"No." The room wasn't even a little bit cool. "Didn't you shower?"

"Yeah," he said, kneading his temples. "I just can't get warm. I feel kind of… I don't know. I think I'm getting a migraine."

"I think you have a fever," I replied, placing my hand against his cheek. He was shaking with chills when the room was perfectly warm, after all. He was even in a sweatshirt. "And your head hurts? When did this start?"

Edward kept his eyes down for a few stubborn moments before shrugging his shoulders. "I felt a little off all day, but… it started to hit me when we were walking back. I ignored it - I just thought I was tired." He gave me a sideways glance. "I guess not. Perfect timing, huh?"

I looked at him sadly. "You _would _say that."

He let out his breath and stood, turning his attention back to his luggage. "Look, I'll be fine. I just want to get you out of here."

"But… why?" I got up and stopped him from zipping his bag. "You don't think we're safe here?"

"Someone just - _he _just _died _here."

I shook my head again. "Edward, we can't just leave."

"We can."

Trying to concentrate on not sobbing again, I ran my fingers through my hair and attempted to think straight. Maybe he was right - maybe it would be better if we _did _leave. If it would make him feel better, than what was the harm? But then something dawned on me.

"I'm not saying it wasn't an accident, but if it's…" I sighed, not sure if I believed it, but my next words were very much a reality. "Look, we weren't accounted for when it happened. If it's like you said and the police think this is something other than an animal attack, don't you think it will look pretty suspicious if we suddenly decide to skip town?"

Edward halted his packing and narrowed his eyes.

"I mean… of _course_ we had nothing to do with it, but the police… I don't know. I just don't know. But I don't think we should do anything we hadn't already planned on."

He sat back on the bed, his shoulders slumping, and I immediately went to his side again. I hadn't expected him to listen so fast, but then I remembered that he'd been pointed as a suspect in his own parents' murder before. Then he was labeled as the guilty party for the death of his neighbor when he had only been defending his own home, protecting himself. I could see those awful ghosts swimming in his eyes and it was heartbreaking.

"Besides, there will probably be a funeral," I said softly, wrapping my arm around him and leaning on his shoulder. "I don't want to miss the chance to say goodbye, you know? And if you're getting sick, we should just stay put until Wednesday. It'll give you time to feel better."

Edward touched his head to mine - God, he really was burning up - and I stroked his hair. "Out of everything, it's the best choice we have," I added.

He was quiet for a long time. I could only imagine a handful of what he was going through, and that probably wasn't even close to half the pain. After awhile, he finally sighed. "Wednesday," he repeated resignedly.

I nodded, sweeping sweaty hair off his forehead. "Yeah. We'll leave then."

"Okay." He still looked uncertain, but he seemed to accept it. At my worried look, he assured, "It's okay."

_He _wasn't, though. He was still shaking and little lines of pain, both mental and physical, wrinkled over his eyes. I knew he must have felt awful when he didn't push my hand away when I felt his forehead. He simply raised his eyebrows as if asking me, _Is it bad_?

"You should try to sleep," I said, then tugged on his sweatshirt. "And take this off. You're sweating."

He didn't look happy about it, but he obliged, although he ended up huddling under the comforter like his life depended on it. He only let me roll it a little past his shoulders, insisting that he was freezing.

"It feels like the flu. I had it a few years ago," he said, tightly holding his pillow as he shivered.

"I hope not," I said, inching over and rubbing his back. "I was sick right after you left, before - same symptoms and all. It only lasted for twenty-four hours. Maybe that's all it is."

"Maybe."

Thankfully, it didn't take him long to drift off to sleep. I was another story; even though I was drained, I could only stare at the windows and watch the rain pelt them in an angry sequence. It was so bizarre to think that we'd had such a beautiful morning, an even better day. But the skies were symbolic now, with dark, hovering clouds and torrential downpours, and slashes of blinding light that burned instead of warmed.

First, I missed Mr. Miller. I thought of him taking his last breath, alone - except for the thing - the _animal_, I reminded myself- that had killed him. I hoped it had been quick, that he didn't have to feel much.

Second, I worried about Edward. How much more grief could he take before it became too much all over again? And now he was sick, probably due to all of the other stress that had pinned him down over the past couple days.

Third, I cried. Feeling lost and devastated, I curled on my side and buried my face in my hands, not wanting to admit to myself that I was scared - scared of things I had no control of, scared of whatever might happen next.

-:-

* * *

A/N:

…

…

…

(Do you hate me?)

The second half of this was hard to write. I loved that old man, even though he's a figment of my imagination. But I swear, that's been planned since the beginning, the first time I typed his name. :( And you guys have no idea how much I super-sulked when I would read reviews telling me he's your favorite or to please not kill him off. However, that's not the last you'll hear from Mr. Miller. I'll be writing an outtake from his POV. It should explain a lot more than what you got from this chapter, anyway (since Bella knows basically nothing and can only speculate). I won't post it yet because it contains spoilers for upcoming chapters (never mind the fact that I haven't yet written it…), but hopefully it'll be a sort of closure. Sigh.

*Reference to _The Road Not Taken _by Robert Frost.

I forgot to say in the last chapter that the 'boiled bunny' reference was from _Fatal Attraction_. :( Talk about a crazy stalker woman. Also, this: "Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up" was said by Robert Frost (who else, right?) This quote's placement will make more sense in Mr. Miller's outtake.

One more thing: I don't usually get all emotional about many fics, but I happened to read _A Quiet Fire _by Magnolia822 last week… and it is the kind of story that gets under your skin and into your soul, making you want to smile and cry. It's fantastic, and the girl has a way with words that I can only dream of having.

Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go mope over some Ben & Jerry's. Maybe get some Hawaiian pizza. And eat peanut butter out of the jar. I need comfort food. (Who wants to join me? Seriously, who lives in MD? COME OVER. WE'LL WATCH 30 ROCK.)

Xoxo - C.


	37. Stirrings of Uncertainty

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but soon I'll own the MOON. Just kidding, my little cousin has insisted on playing _Despicable Me _for the past three days and I've been brainwashed to go steal it.

I could spend a few paragraphs describing why it's taken me so long to update, but I'm afraid some of you might get the _look _teachers give when you try to explain why an assignment is late. (Some of you are doing it right now, aren't you? lol) So, I'm just going to say life got in the way a LOT. I honestly didn't write one single line of this until last week. I hope you guys understand. But I _am _sorry! (And thanks to those who sent emails checking if I was still alive or to ask about the story, they were very funny & heartwarming, and I appreciate it. I'm very, very sorry if I didn't get back to you.)

Unless you decide to reread it since it's been so long, here is Chapter 36's Recap: Edward decided to take a little detour in the woods and showed Bella the infamous meadow. They hung around for quite awhile, enjoying the sun and each others' company, and then it poured down rain and they enjoyed each others' company in some wet, naked ways. Unfortunately, the stormy weather was kind of foreshadowing; when they returned to the lodge, they found out the tragic news about Mr. Miller. On top of that devastation, Edward suddenly got his ass handed to him by the flu. Man. I'm mean. :(

* * *

-:-

Waking felt like a sharp shove from behind - that was how fast I sat up, reeling from the shock. I pushed away the sheets, still feeling like something was pinning me down, unwilling to let me go, and quickly slid out of bed and onto the floor.

I had dreamt of being lost, of tearing through a wild forest, knowing someone was after me. Branches and thorns had snagged my clothes, ripping the material and leaving me naked. There were crashes and feral screams behind me, then horrible cracks - trees splintering or bones breaking - and whatever it was, it was clawing at my back, trying to bring me down. In the end, it had.

Blackout.

And then I'd awakened.

The dream had taken nearly every ounce of my breath away, so much so that I fought to maintain composure. I squinted, the light I'd left on like a stab to my eyes, and fixed my gaze on the doorknob just for concentration's sake until the sound of a cough snapped me out of it. I wiped my face in case there were tears and knelt on the floor, reluctant to get up and look above the mattress. I wasn't sure why, but I almost expected to see a figment of my dream still waiting to pounce. Of course, Edward was the only one in bed, asleep and tangled in the blankets.

I relaxed, glad I hadn't woken him, and walked to the bathroom to splash my face. My eyes were pink and puffy - leftover effects from having cried myself to sleep. I hadn't gone to bed until hours after Edward had, only lying next to him in a sort of staring, numb state before the tears had returned and exhausted me. Now I had no idea of the time… it was probably the middle of the night. Edward's phone was on the night table and as I checked, it confirmed my guess: three in the morning.

Normally when I woke like this, I wanted nothing more than the night to be over. This time, however, I would have preferred it to continue until I could make sense of things; at the moment, I didn't know what to do, how to feel. Being anxious was normal, I supposed, and that was slowly growing inside my stomach. I knew I wouldn't have much luck going back to sleep, so I quietly crept from the room, down the hall, and into my own.

It was about six AM in Jacksonville. If it was a work day for Charlie, he'd probably be up right now, drinking coffee on the sun porch and inspecting his gun. I wanted to hear his voice so badly, but whether it was my wanting to keep bad news from my parents for a little while longer or not wanting to confront the issue itself, I couldn't bring myself to dial home just yet. So, I decided on the only other person I knew who might be awake.

"You are working, aren't you?" I quickly asked as Angela answered her phone, sounding exhausted.

"Yeah. I lost a patient," she said heavily. "They're letting me take an extra break. And after everything that happened yesterday, it's nice to hear your voice."

"Yours, too," I said. "So, you heard about Mr. Miller?"

"On my way to work, yeah. I can't believe it. I just… I mean, I see death all the time here at the hospital, but it's not usually someone I know. It's so strange. So sad." We chatted for awhile, occasionally sniffling and sitting in silence, sadness lingering over the slight static. She eventually asked, "How's Edward taking it?"

"Not so well," I answered dimly. "It hit him close to home. Plus, he's not feeling well now, so that's not helping."

"He's sick? What's the matter?"

"Hopefully he's wrong, but he said it felt like the flu," I told her.

"Ben has that right now," she said with a sigh.

"Does he?" Vaguely, I remembered Edward telling me Ben was sick yesterday.

"Yeah. Maybe they've been making out."

There was a beat of silence before the both of us burst into laughter. I was relieved to laugh after so much crying, but, ultimately, our contagious giggling slowly subsided and left us right back in heavy quiet.

"I should get back to work," she said reluctantly. "I'm glad you called, though."

"Me too," I replied, somber.

"I'll come by after my shift if you'd like. I told Ben I'd stop by his place and give him some anti-viral meds first, but I can bring extra and check Edward, too. If he's got the flu, they won't get rid of it but they usually trim down the symptoms."

"Thanks, that's nice of you," I said, glancing at the wall between Edward's room and mine. I wondered if I'd been too noisy and woken him. "What time do you think?"

"I get off at five, so probably six-ish."

"I'll be up." It wasn't like I was in the mood for more sleep.

We said our goodbyes and I glanced around the room, unsure what to do with myself. Seeing the clutter I had let build up was enough to kick me into gear. In the bathroom, my still-damp clothes were strewn over the floor so I picked them up and folded them over my arm, only to have something small fall by my feet. It clattered and rolled to the bathtub, and I realized what it was with a clean stab to my heart.

The chess piece Mr. Miller had given me. The little white knight.

Like an ignited match, the grief quickly flared. I was unprepared for the intensity; I lost the battle of trying not to cry without much of a chance. I held the little horse in my hand and spent a few minutes going to pieces on the bathroom floor before I got up to go back to Edward's room. His eyes were closed, but he stirred when I curled up next to him. He blinked at me, squinting from the light, his eyes looking glazed and fatigued as though he'd never even shut them.

"What time is it?" he croaked.

"A little after three-thirty," I answered, reaching to smooth his hair. His forehead was hot. "Are you feeling any better?"

He didn't reply right away, which told me the answer was no, but he still said, "A little. Were you crying?"

My eyes must have been red. I nodded glumly, my insides feeling like stretched rubber bands when I realized I was still holding the marble chess piece in my fist. I'd been clutching it all this time. I held it up for him to see. "It was Mr. Miller's."

Edward studied it for a few moments. "Where did you find it?"

"He gave it to me yesterday after our game. He told me every girl deserves one - a white knight."

The tiny creases in his forehead deepened. "He gave it to you?"

"Mm-hmm," I said, trailing my fingertip over the piece.

"Strange." I shrugged, morose, and he clarified, "Not that he wouldn't have wanted to, but it's interesting that he picked yesterday."

I looked up at him. "Well, he thought I was leaving in a few days. Maybe it was a sort of goodbye present."

"Right," he said, an odd look in his eyes as he narrowed them.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm thinking."

"About what?" He was surprisingly methodical for having been awake only one minute.

He sighed and rolled onto his back, wincing as though the movement hurt him. "Nothing. Never mind." I arched an eyebrow and stared at him until he noticed. "It's just… he said something to me yesterday. He told me 'Make things right while you can, that way you don't have to scramble to fix them later when you're running out of time'. There was something about the way he said it… like he knew he didn't _have _that time. You know?"

I scratched my ear, not willing to think more into Mr. Miller's death than I already had. "He always says-" I frowned at my mistake. "He always said things like that, though."

Edward's eyes seemed far away. "Something about it felt final. Like he knew."

"_Knew _that he was going to die? How would he have known? It's not like he scheduled it!" I turned onto my back, too, and took a moment to breathe, seeing as I was bordering on going off the deep end. "Sorry," I whispered. "This is … hard. I just don't think he thought he might be fatally attacked, so he figured he'd drop goodbye hints."

"Did he say anything to you?" he asked anyway. "Anything that sounded… departing?"

Though I tried to ignore it, I couldn't deny that a few bits of my last conversation with Mr. Miller weren't reminiscent to a farewell speech. But then again we _had _been discussing how Edward and I would be leaving for Thanksgiving. Everything else seemed normal… it wasn't like we'd never sat down for a heart-to-heart at breakfast before. Though, it was the first time I ever saw him eat something other than egg whites and wheat toast. I remembered him saying how he was "treating himself" - a steak and egg breakfast, a pumpkin latte. Then he told me life was short and to go out and get my hands dirty. He even let me win a chess game. And it was only now that I fully admitted to myself that he'd _allowed _me to win; honestly, I never could have outsmarted that man. Maybe he did it because it was our last game before I left and he was feeling grandfatherly. Yet, he might have done all these things because, somehow, he felt like he _didn't _have much time and wanted to fit them in.

I was too stubborn to tell Edward his inkling wasn't entirely impossible, so we ended up lying in silence.

"Bella?" he said a few minutes later. I turned to find him kneading his temples. "There's a fold-up travel cup in one of my bags. Would you mind getting me some water?"

I almost tripped as I swiftly got out of bed, cursing myself for not offering him a drink earlier, not to mention the previous night. He'd been feverish and sweating, and what did I tell him? To go to sleep. Talk about being a D-class girlfriend. Isabella Swan, one step shy of being declared brainless. On sale now at PatheticThings . com.

Even though the guilt wasn't major, tears still ended up in my eyes when I handed him the water. He looked perplexed, but before he could ask me what was wrong, I rolled onto my side of the bed with my back to him so he wouldn't stare. After awhile, I felt him lean over me to turn off the lamp. Though there were patters of rain slapping the windows, the clouds weren't thick enough to completely hide the moonlight; I could see an outline of Edward's shadow on the wall as he reached to touch my shoulder.

"Are you going to let me hold you or are you mad?" he asked.

Why I would be mad was beyond me. "I'm not mad, I'm _sorry_," I said as turned over, tucking myself close to him.

"For what?"

"Letting you dehydrate."

"That's ridiculous. I could have walked to the sink at any time."

"Noted," I mumbled. I thought he might go back to sleep, but he kept stroking my arm, wrist to elbow, until I finally said, "I'm not saying that what you're thinking is unreasonable."

"You just suppose it's not realistic."

"Well… yeah."

He almost laughed. "But you also think it wasn't a person who killed him."

I had hoped he would have given up on that assumption by now. "Even if it was, you really think Mr. Miller would willingly go into a situation where he might be in danger?" I asked.

"Maybe if he was protecting someone."

"Like whom?"

"You and me."

I tilted my head up to his. "How do you figure that?"

"He told us to go into the woods, didn't he?"

"He suggested it, he didn't demand it."

"But why would he do that when he was always hell bent on never setting foot in there? Do you think he meant to send us into a hazardous situation?"

"Of course not," I said, baffled. "But what do the woods have to do with him _protecting _us?"

"Because where else would we have gone?" he asked, his voice growing hoarse. I couldn't really see in the darkness, but I wondered if he was getting annoyed with me. "Around town, around the other neighborhoods, right? We would have been in the exact same area as John when he died."

"That's not a guarantee," I argued. "We could have walked to the high school instead and used the track or driven to the park. At first I only gave him the impression we would enjoy the weather, not the street names we would take."

"It still doesn't make sense."

"He died, Edward. It was a horrible accident."

"Was it?"

I sighed heavily and moved to turn the light back on. So much for sleeping. I sat up and pulled my legs to my chest. "What else would you call it?" He didn't answer, but I could hear the word in his head like an alarm. _Murder_. "You're scaring me, you know," I told him.

The charged look in his eyes slowly faded into a hard exhaustion before he shut them. "I don't mean to," he said, exhaling as he turned over. After a long pause, he finally said, "I just have a weird feeling. A bad one. I don't know. What about the phone call he made last night? The one to Dr. Cullen?"

"He said he was just worried about you," I said, resting my chin on my knees.

"You said it yourself that you thought it was strange. Why would they need to meet so early in the morning to talk about us?"

My head felt slightly thick, as if stuffed with cotton. I really couldn't blame him for being paranoid when some of his old ghosts were surfacing. "I don't know. But even you said that I might have had the wrong idea."

The silence that followed seemed to swallow us, ending the conversation. Eventually, I leaned over to kiss his forehead and, once again, reached for the lamp. When Edward moved closer to me, I winced. "You're so hot," I said sympathetically, which only earned me a juvenile chuckle on his part. "You think so?" he asked.

I had to smile. "Your _fever_."

"Sure," he mumbled and pulled a pillow between us, claiming he didn't want to breathe on me. I played with his hair until he fell asleep, then rolled onto my back and willed myself to do the same. With all the worry in my head, I managed to hold onto the hope that he would later feel better and we could be one step closer to going home.

-:-

* * *

A/N: I know. This was very short. But since I'm getting the ball rolling, I wanted to give you something. If you're still reading, you have my thanks, and all of you really should petition yourselves to replace St. Monica, the patron saint of patience, for obvious reasons. I'll try my best to post the next chapter ASAP, but just in case, Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends, and Happy Rest of the Week to everyone else. :)


	38. Stranger than Fiction Pt 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I kind of wish I did because I want to roll around in millions of dollars while in a diamond covered bikini, drinking champagne and eating chocolate. Aw, c'mon, don't act like you don't want to do that, too. (If you're a guy, then you can skip the bikini. Unless that's your thing.)

Chapter 37 Recap because it's been like 10 years and I'm sososososo sorry: Bella and Edward are still at the lodge in Forks. Mr. Miller's mysterious death is taking its toll, and Bella is trying to dismiss any kind of supernatural-ish theories. Edward thinks otherwise - he's knows something's up, but he's still stuck in a flu/fever-haze and isn't sure himself. I know it's been slow, but the next few chapters will actually have some action. Thanks for sticking with me, kids.

-:-

Angela and I sat in the hallway - she in her scrubs, me in my pajamas - our backs pressed to the wall, looking like twins with our slouched posture and weary eyes.

"So… seven-thirty, tonight," Angela said tiredly. "Do you want to go together?"

She'd gotten word from one of her co-workers that a memorial service was being held for Mr. Miller later that evening. I sipped the coffee she had brought me, the taste bitter on my tongue, and thought. The idea of having to go anywhere, especially to something as emotional as a memorial service, was exhausting. At the moment, even the small weight of coffee in my hands seemed too heavy.

"Yeah, okay." Because it didn't matter how tired or overwhelmed I was; I owed it to Mr. Miller to pay my respects. "Just wait," I said as I narrowed my eyes to Edward's room. "He's going to want to go."

"He shouldn't," she added, a tad of her nurse-voice intonating. After seeing how sick Edward was, she deemed he most likely had the flu - she had been seeing more and more cases pop up at work - and given him instructions to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing.

"Oh, I'm not going to let him," I said, feeling a bone crack as I twisted my back. "The challenge is how to convince him he can't. I'll have to tie him to the bed."

"Kinky stuff, Swan," she said with a weak smile. "You can just put him on the phone with Ben while we're gone and they can whine to each other about whose muscles hurt more. Men could complain all night over just a stuffy nose."

I managed to grin back. "You know… I have nothing to wear but jeans. I'm going to have to go buy a skirt or something. I'm missing my coat, too."

"How did you lose your coat? Except for yesterday, it's been freezing."

"I'm irresponsible, I guess," I said, inhaling the roasted scent of coffee, wishing it would perk me up. "I could have sworn I left it in my room, but it's not there now. And it's not in Edward's room, or his car, and it can't be in my truck because I haven't been in it for almost a week, plus it's at some car repair place right now-"

"Shh," Angela said, pushing my cup to my chin. "Drink. And breathe. I have an extra you can borrow, plus some clothes. We're about the same size."

I gave her a grateful look. "What would I do without you?"

"Well," she said, "you would be naked. Thank God for me."

After she left, I took a quick shower and then went downstairs to get myself and Edward some breakfast. The sun was barely up, but the lobby was crowded; usually it was in the mornings, people keen on getting coffee and croissants and whatever other pastry was available, but the crowd was bulkier this morning. People were eating with suitcases and other baggage propped around their tables, so much so that I had to travel the café as if in a maze. Puzzled, I entered the kitchen, expecting to see Tom only to find Doris instead.

"Oh, Isabella," she breathed, setting down a large pan of scones. "Good morning, dear." As she spoke, a quiver of sadness vibrated in her voice.

"Hi, Doris," I said in the same tone before I could help it. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm trucking along," she said, giving me a smile, though it wasn't as bright as her usual ones. "I gave Tom the morning off, so I'm trying not to let the folks outside go hungry! They're in a hurry this morning." Her grin faltered a bit as she reached for a platter. "Can't say I blame them."

Slipping back in to my normal 'kitchen helper' routine, I grabbed a spatula and took over plating the scones for her. "They're all leaving, aren't they? Because of what happened to…" _Don't_.

Doris patted her brow with a napkin and my heart fell a little as I saw her bottom lip tremble. "Yes, dear, they are. People are scared. Near the forest is the last place they want to be."

"I'm sorry, Doris." I took a breath and dropped my eyes, concentrating on the food in front of me. I honestly didn't know what else to say.

"It's just the way things are, honey," she said quietly, and I saw her quickly wipe her eyes. "How and you and Mr. Masen doing? Are you both okay? I didn't see either of you last night, not after the officers left."

"We're doing all right, I guess. Well, I suppose I am," I corrected, though I wasn't quite sure how to describe what I was. "Edward's not so good. He came down with the flu last night."

Doris frowned, managing to add another worried crease to her forehead. "Oh, that poor boy. What a time for illness to strike," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Yeah," I said, leaning against the counter. "I'm glad I could tell you, though, that way you won't come upstairs and be exposed to germs or anything. And since I know where everything is, if we need towels or anything, could I just get them myself?"

"Of course," she said sympathetically, and went on to tell me to take whatever I needed - sheets, towels, water, food - and whenever I needed it. "My house is your house, dear. It has been since the day you got here." As she said it, her eyes welled with tears and I ended up in one of her massive hugs - the bone-crushing, swaying kind. I couldn't say it wasn't comforting, either.

I offered to help her with the rest of breakfast, but she shooed me back upstairs with fresh scones, but not before I made another cup of coffee for myself and some tea for Edward. He barely ate anything, and even though I devoured my scone and drained my cup, my energy was still depleted. When he got up to take a shower, I drifted off immediately, only to wake when he emerged from the bathroom awhile later, glassy-eyed and heavily flushed. Even his bare chest was pink.

"God, are you okay?" I asked, sitting up quickly, a little shocked at his appearance.

"I thought hot showers help break fevers," he answered. "Either that's false or mine's stubborn."

"Maybe just a lukewarm one would have been a better idea." I eyed him as he sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his head. He looked worse than before. "Still have a headache?" I asked, and he hummed a yes. "You did take one of the antiviral pills Angela brought, right?"

He nodded. I tapped his leg, scooting back to the headboard. "Come here."

I crisscrossed my legs and pulled a pillow onto my lap so he could rest his head, and he sighed, closing his eyes as I softly massaged his temples. After a few silent minutes, I said, "There's a memorial service for Mr. Miller tonight."

His eyes cracked open. "There is?"

"Mm-hmm. I don't think you should go, though." He protested instantly, so I put my hand over his mouth. "Just listen first," I said. "I know how much he meant to you. But I only think you shouldn't go because you're not up for it. And right now, you can barely sit up."

"That doesn't matter-"

"And you should rest before-"

"Bella-"

"Shh," I hushed him. "_And _because Mr. Miller was old. His friends and probably some family members are going to be elderly, too. Plus, he has grandchildren. I don't think it would be the best idea for you to be around anyone, especially older and younger people, if you're sick."

I felt horrible putting it so bluntly, but it was pretty truthful. Plus, a tiny, selfish part of me was more concerned with him getting the rest he needed instead of putting himself through more emotional strain.

Half-expecting more of an argument, I started to say more, but he slowly slid his hand over his eyes, exhaling. "Shit," he muttered, sniffling a bit. "Why did you have to go and say that?"

_Because that's the only reason why you might stay behind,_ I thought as I continued to caress his head. I knew him too well; he'd push himself to the brink any day - he'd proven it before - but if he thought he would be a burden to someone else, then he would back off. "I'm sorry," I almost whispered.

"I hate that you're right."

I leaned back against the pillows. "Me too."

"Whenever the funeral is, I'm going."

I understood that. Plus, hearing the finality in his voice, there really was no argument there. "I won't stop you then."

He took a few more minutes to let it sink in and, even though his eyes were closed, I could tell he was devastated. "You're kind of breaking my heart," I told him as I trailed my fingers through his hair. "You look miserable."

Edward tilted his head, the movement slow and heavy, as though it took all the effort he had to face me. "Really?" The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "This is my happy face."

"How about a nap?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Illness 101 and all. Naps make you feel better, right?"

"I feel okay."

The fever that was radiating from his skin proved otherwise as did the knolls of creases in his forehead and an ill-timed cough, making him wince and bury his face in the crook of his elbow until it subsided. "Ow," he breathed, placing his hand on his chest.

"Yeah, you sound terrific," I commented gently.

He ignored my point. "If anything needs healing, it's my pride. How many times have you seen me in pathetic states like these?"

"Right, because it's not like you haven't seen me cry my eyes out or trip down the stairs or get hit by a car before."

"You've seen me puke. I win."

"Hey, remember my _concussion_? As in head trauma? _I _win. Besides, you would have seen _me _puke if Angela hadn't shoved you out of my hospital room."

He frowned. "Well, that doesn't count then, does it?"

I felt guilty for smiling, but I couldn't help it. "See, now you're getting crabby. You know what would fix that? A na-"

"Naked girlfriend?" he proposed. I rolled my eyes, but he laughed, setting himself off into another coughing fit. I offered him water, but he waved his hand and rolled onto his stomach, away from my lap so I couldn't see his face.

I let out my breath and played with my fingernails. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Are you taking off your shirt?"

Men.

"Come here," I said, curling against him, and he tensed as my hand touched his chest. "Sorry. Am I cold?"

"Yeah, but it feels good," he said, taking my hand and pressing my fingers to his cheek. For awhile I just held him, kissing the back of his neck and breathing in the fresh scent of his soap. To me, he still smelled good even if he was sweaty and feverish.

"Bella, are you scared?"

The question surprised me enough to almost pull away. "Huh?" I asked, but in only a few seconds the words interrupted my calm and whipped my thoughts into action like rogue wind. Fear. It was so fresh, it took no time at all to remember what I was afraid of: Mr. Miller, how fast death had snatched him away, and how I was desperate not to lose anyone or anything else, especially not Edward - the man I had my arms around. I was afraid because he was sick, afraid that his past would reach out with invisible, cruel fingers and steal the strength he'd built for himself, and all I wanted to do was take him home, away from everything that had ever happened to him, and protect him. Worse, I was afraid that, somehow, something would be able to stop me from doing just that.

I took a breath. "No," I lied. "I'm not."

"Oh. I am."

Why?" I asked. Instinctively, I hugged him closer, crushing him a bit, but he didn't flinch. "Of what?"

He exhaled loudly, giving my hand a squeeze. "Probably everything that just ran through your mind."

-:-

When my can of hairspray clattered to the floor, I almost stamped my foot.

I kept dropping things: my hairbrush, my toothbrush, my eyeliner pencil, all due to my non-stop shaking hands. Considering I only had a few hours of sleep at the max and a cloudy feeling in my head that wouldn't go away, I thought the few cups of coffee I'd consumed throughout the day would have been beneficial.

I was wrong. I was a twitchy mess.

Bending down to pick up the hairspray, I knocked my head on the side of the bathroom sink. "Goddamn it," I hissed, feeling my forehead. Unfortunately, my inelegance was winning today.

I ran my hands over the unfamiliar skirt I was wearing, one that Angela had graciously lent me, and smoothed a wrinkle in the blue blouse. Angela was taller, so everything was a little long, but her clothes fit me pretty well. Though, my feet were already aching in her size eight shoes, a half-size smaller than mine, but I couldn't really complain; she was saving me from showing up in sneakers or knee-high boots.

Now, if I could only stop my trembling and swallow the lump in my throat.

I held back a sigh as I left my room and walked to Edward's, entering to find Angela seated on the side of his bed, legs crossed and chuckling. Whatever they were talking about was making Edward smile, too, so that was a good sign.

"Well, look at you," Angela said playfully. "Bella Swan in a skirt. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Huh? I wear skirts, I just didn't pack any," I said, setting my purse by the door.

"I tried to get her to buy a dress when we went shopping a few weeks back," Angela told Edward. "She looked at me like I'd suggested a corset."

"Well, that's because we were going to the _carnival,_" I protested. "And it was windy. No one needed to see any of my frisky business just because of a chance blast of air."

"Think of the ferris wheel and all that wind," Angela continued humorously. "That would have been a whole different kind of ride."

I had to laugh. "Yeah, I'll bet you would have loved that," I said to Edward.

"It's not like I had to wait much longer," he said, grinning despite his lethargy. "It was only two hours later when I saw all I wanted."

"Whoa," Angela giggled as my mouth dropped.

"Oh Jesus, Edward. Don't pay attention to him, he's delirious." He only laughed and got himself coughing, and I added, "See what happens?"

Angela patted his back and gave me the same kind of teasing smile she always used to back when I first met Edward. "Don't be embarrassed, Bella. Though, now I get to tell Ben that _I_ won the bet on that one."

Face flush overload. "All right, you know what? Both of you," I said loudly, failing to keep a straight face as they giggled like cheerleaders, "_suck_."

Angela stood up, gave me a playful smack on the arm, and turned to Edward. "Now, what did I tell you?"

He breathed deeply as he rolled on his side. "If I don't have to pee every hour, I'm not drinking enough."

"Thatta' boy." She pointed to a white bag sitting on his night table (which I'd lined with water bottles). "And I expect that soup to be eaten by the time Bella gets back. No more of this 'I'm full from water' crap."

"For real," I added as I put in my earrings, giving him a look. I'd been pushing him to eat all day since he only had maybe five crumbs for breakfast, but _nooo_.

"Capiche?" she concluded.

He nodded, giving a slight eye roll of his own. "What happened to your Nurse Weber bedside manner?"

"I'm off the clock. I get to street-talk you," she said, leaning over to ruffle his hair. "Now get well, okay? Watch some boy movies and call Ben if you get bored. You guys can cry to each other."

"Boy movies?" I asked.

"_Die Hard, Speed, Harold and Kumar_, etcetera," she said, motioning to a small portable DVD player beside Edward. "I stole them from Ben. But I did sneak _The Notebook_ in there if you guys feel like watching a chick flick together."

I smiled. "That's really nice of you."

"Yeah, thank you, Angela," he added.

"It's no problem. I don't know how you two have been surviving up here without television. Though, I guess I _do _have an idea, now…" I turned to see her smirk, her eyebrows starting to raise.

"Oh, get out of here," I said, swatting at her as she headed for the door.

"We've got a few minutes before we need to leave, so I'll be downstairs."

"I'll be there soon."

When she closed the door behind her, I turned to Edward, who had a small grin on his face. He gave me a once over. "You look pretty," he said.

I slipped into a jacket, something else Angela had lent me since mine had gone missing, and sat on the bed, reaching for his hand. "Thanks. I wish I was going somewhere else."

"I should be going with you," he said, a hollow defeat slipping into his expression. I traced his thumbnail with my fingertip, ready to give him another 'health comes first' speech, but he added, "You'll be there and you're probably already carrying germs."

I sighed. He was most likely right, considering how close we'd been. Even though I had a flu shot back in October, there were so many strains nowadays… Either I'd get lucky and remain healthy or it would eventually come and knock me on my ass, too. "I don't have any symptoms, though," I finally said. "And I have hand sanitizer and won't be kissing anyone."

"I know."

"There is one thing Angela forgot to mention for you to do. Sleep. You haven't gotten any since this morning and now it's _evening_. You're due."

I felt a little mommy-ish, pushing him to shut his eyes and let unconsciousness dull his pain, but he needed to rest and I couldn't understand why he was being such a stubborn ass about it.

"I'll try." Then, coughing, he managed to say, "If _this_ lets me sleep."

"Maybe Angela can break into the hospital pharmacy and get you something for that, too," I said, feeling sorry for him. "I hear cough syrup with codeine can knock you out for a few hours… and then I won't have to."

"Oh, so nice of you," he said, "threatening to punch me while I'm incapacitated. St. Isabella, black belt."

"Hearing that, I think you'll be just fine." I leaned over and kissed his cheek, taking a few extra moments to rest my head against his. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

I felt him nod, and I quickly whispered goodbye before I decided to stay. Suddenly, I really didn't want to leave him.

-:-

A/N. I haven't written since my last update. I blame meeting a boy, falling hard for him, and then him breaking my heart and moving on to another girl. Honestly, after that happened, I ate a lot of ice cream and did a lot of crying, and in between that, I did schoolwork. Sorry, you guys. :(

I'd better not make promises because I think Mariahajile will literally kick my ass, but I'm going to try to get back on track, writing-wise, and get Part 2 out soon. My last exam is tomorrow and as I'm unemployed at the moment (Is anyone hiring? Anyone? Bueller?) and not taking summer classes, so I'll need something to fill my time so I don't sit around the house and eat everything in my pantry. Come to think of it, I'll take my laptop elsewhere so I don't sit in the house and eat everything in the pantry _while _writing.

Anyway, if you're still reading, I'm shocked but I love you for it. And to those who have left me messages, I changed my email awhile back so FF stuff goes to a separate account and I didn't have the cajones to check it until today. I promptly had a semi-anxiety attack. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! :/ I'll try to respond, but if someone has questions or anything, I'm back on Twitter and will probably answer you faster over there. (banana_pncakes7)

Xoxo - C


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